As dawn approached and the first roosters crowed, the wives of the Yadavas, long afflicted by the pain of separation throughout the night, were at last embraced by their beloved husbands. In the gardens and groves, the birds awoke with the morning light, their songs—restless and sweet—filling the air as if in praise of Krishna himself, stirred by the gentle breezes wafting from the Mandara forest. In that tender hour, Vaidarbhi, nestled within the arms of her beloved, found even a moment’s separation from his embrace unbearably beautiful. Yet, as the sacred Brahma-muhurta arrived, Krishna—Mādhava—arose, touched the pure water, and, his mind serene and clear, withdrew into meditation upon his own self, the one beyond all darkness. He, the self-luminous and unique, imperishable and eternally pure by his very nature—known as Brahman—whose powers bring forth and withdraw the worlds, whose bliss shines through his own energies, now performed his daily rituals. Having bathed in pure water and donned clean garments, Krishna, ever virtuous, offered oblations into the fire and recited the sacred Brahman with controlled speech. Turning to the rising sun, he honored the various aspects of his own self, worshipped the gods, sages, ancestors, elders, and Brahmins, remaining ever self-possessed. To the Brahmins, he gave cows adorned with golden horns and garlands of pearls—virtuous, healthy, yielding sweet milk, with calves and draped in fine cloth. Day after day, he offered to these decorated Brahmins cows with silver-tipped hooves, along with linen, deerskins, and sesame seeds. With deep humility, Krishna bowed to the cows, Brahmins, deities, elders, teachers, and all living beings. Touching auspicious objects that had their origin in himself, he invoked blessings upon all. Then, as the ornament of mankind, he adorned himself with his own garments, radiant jewels, divine garlands, and fragrant ointments. He beheld the sacrificial fire and the mirror, gave gifts to cows, bulls, Brahmins, and deities, and fulfilled the wishes of all—citizens and the women of the palace alike—gaining their blessings by pleasing them. He distributed garlands, betel leaves, and fragrant ointments first to the Brahmins, then to his friends, attendants, and wives, and only afterwards did he partake of these himself. Meanwhile, Suta, the charioteer, brought forth a wondrous chariot, yoked with splendid horses such as Sugriva and others, and presented himself before Krishna with deep obeisance. Taking Suta’s hand, Krishna ascended the chariot, accompanied by Satyaki and Uddhava, shining like the radiant sun rising over the eastern mountain. As he departed, the women of the palace gazed upon him with bashful, loving glances; only with difficulty did they release him, for his smile and presence captivated their hearts. Surrounded by all the Vrishnis, Krishna entered the great assembly hall, Sudharma, where those who sit are free from the six waves of suffering—hunger, thirst, grief, illusion, old age, and death. Seated upon the highest throne, Krishna shone with his own radiance, illuminating all directions. Surrounded by the heroic Yadus, he appeared like the moon among stars in the sky. There, the master of ceremonies and the dance teachers approached him with various forms of laughter and joy, and the dancers performed distinct tandava dances. The sounds of mridanga, vina, muraja, flute, and cymbals filled the hall as the performers sang, danced, and praised him. The Sutas, Magadhas, and bards offered their eulogies, while learned Brahmins, seated and well-versed in Brahman, narrated the stories of former kings of virtuous fame. At that time, a man of unprecedented appearance arrived. Announced by the doorkeepers, he was ushered into the assembly and, bowing before Krishna, the Supreme Lord, with joined palms, reported to the assembled kings the distress caused by Jarasandha’s imprisonment. He explained that the kings who had not submitted to Jarasandha’s conquest had been forcibly detained by him—twenty groups of ten thousand each were now held captive in Girivraja. The kings, through the messenger, cried: “Krishna, Krishna, immeasurable soul, destroyer of the fears of those who seek refuge! We come to you, fearful of worldly existence and divided in mind, seeking shelter.” “The world is absorbed in unrighteousness, heedless of virtue; yet this action, arising from you, is for your worship. Whoever here, strong as he may be, suddenly cuts off the hope of life for the sleepless one—salutations to him! O Lord, you have descended for the protection of the righteous and the subjugation of the wicked. Who can transgress your command? Who can attain the fruit of their own actions? We do not know.” “O Lord, the happiness of kings is like a dream, ever dependent on others, burdened by fear, bearing the yoke of a life as good as dead. Abandoning the happiness found in the self, which is attainable without anxiety through you, we suffer greatly—how pitiable we are, deluded by your māyā.” “Therefore, may you, whose feet remove the sorrow of those who take refuge, release us who are bound by the fetters of the Magadhan’s deeds. You alone, possessing the strength of ten thousand elephants, restrained the king who, like a lion among beasts, had confined us in his palace. He, firm in pride and delighting in conquest, was repeatedly defeated by you, O Lord of infinite power, when you broke his noble disc in battle twenty-two times. Now he afflicts your people; O unconquered one, please act accordingly.” The messenger concluded: “Thus, held captive by the Magadhan and longing to see you, they have taken refuge at your feet. Please grant well-being to these afflicted ones.” As the royal messenger spoke thus, the divine sage Narada suddenly appeared, radiant and bearing tawny matted locks, like the sun itself. Seeing him, Bhagavan Krishna, Lord of all lords, rose with his assembly and followers and joyfully bowed his head in deep respect. Krishna honored Narada properly, offering him a seat and addressing him with pleasing words, satisfying the sage with faith and reverence: “Is all well today among the three worlds, free from fear? Surely, the virtue of the Lord increases as he travels among the worlds. Nothing is unknown to you in all the worlds, O Lord among creators. Therefore, we ask you: what do the Pandavas intend?” Narada replied: “O Lord, I have seen your māyā many times—difficult to overcome—O Master, Creator of the universe and wielder of māyā. As you move among beings with your own powers, your glory is hidden like fire concealed in wood; thus, nothing astonishes me.” “Who indeed is fit to know well your actions here, as you create and withdraw this world by your own māyā? What appears to exist is only a reflection of understanding. I bow to you, whose nature is beyond all distinctions. He who grants liberation to the soul wandering in saṃsāra, who does not know the suffering brought by the body—he, who by his playful descents kindles his own fame—I take refuge in him, who dispels darkness.” “Yet, O Brahman, I shall tell you what is intended by the king, your devotee, the son of your paternal aunt, as he prepares to perform a deed that will amaze the world of men.