For a brief, tender moment, Vaidarbhi found herself unable to bear the sweet pain of separation from her beloved, having just left the warmth of his embrace and the comfort of his arms. As the Brahma-muhūrta—the sacred hour before dawn—arrived, Mādhava rose, purified himself with water, and, his mind serene, sat in meditation upon his own true Self: that which lies forever beyond the darkness of ignorance. He is the One—self-luminous, unique, imperishable, and eternally pure by his very nature—known as Brahman. By his own powers, he brings forth the universe and dissolves it again; through those same energies, his bliss shines forth. Having completed his meditation, he bathed thoroughly in pure water, donned clean garments, and, in the proper order, performed his daily rituals. With disciplined speech, he offered oblations into the sacred fire and recited the Vedic mantras. Turning toward the rising sun, he honored the various aspects of his own being, worshipped the gods, sages, ancestors, elders, and Brahmins, all with perfect composure. To the Brahmins, he gave cows with golden horns—gentle, virtuous cows, adorned with pearl garlands, healthy, yielding abundant milk, attended by calves, and clothed in fine fabric. Day by day, he continued to bestow upon the decorated Brahmins cows with silver-tipped hooves, along with linen, deer skins, and sesame seeds. He bowed reverently to the cows, Brahmins, deities, elders, teachers, and indeed to all living beings. Then, touching auspicious objects born from himself, he invoked blessings for all. He adorned himself—the very ornament of mankind—with his own splendid garments, radiant jewels, divine garlands, and fragrant ointments. He gazed upon the sacrificial fire and the mirror, offered gifts to cows, bulls, Brahmins, and deities, and fulfilled the desires of all: citizens and palace women alike, pleasing them and receiving their heartfelt blessings. First, he distributed garlands, betel nuts, and ointments to the Brahmins, then to friends, attendants, and wives, and only afterwards did he enjoy these himself. Meanwhile, Sūta, the charioteer, brought forth a wondrous chariot, yoked with noble horses like Sugrīva and others, and, after offering respectful obeisance, stood ready before him. Taking the charioteer’s hand, he ascended the chariot, accompanied by Sātyaki and Uddhava, shining like the sun rising over the eastern mountain. As he prepared to depart, the women of the palace gazed at him with bashful, loving glances; reluctantly, they let him go, their hearts captivated by his gentle smile. Surrounded by all the Vrishnis, he entered the grand assembly hall known as Sudharmā, where those who sat within were free from the six waves of suffering—hunger, thirst, sorrow, delusion, old age, and death. Seated upon the highest throne, the Lord shone with his own radiance, illuminating all directions. Surrounded by heroic Yadus, he appeared like the moon among the stars in the night sky. There, O King, the master of ceremonies and the dance teachers approached the Lord with many forms of laughter and joy, as dancers performed distinct and vigorous tāṇḍava dances. With the resonant sounds of mṛdaṅga, vīṇā, muraja, flute, and cymbals, the performers danced, sang, and offered their praises. The Sūtas, Magadhas, and bards recited eulogies in his honor. In that assembly, Brahmins, well-versed in Brahman, sat and narrated the stories of former kings whose fame was founded on virtue. At that moment, O King, a man of remarkable appearance arrived. Announced to Bhagavān by the doorkeepers, he was ushered into the assembly. He bowed with folded hands to Krishna, the supreme Lord, and reported to the assembled kings the distress caused by Jarāsandha’s imprisonments. He explained that the kings who had refused to submit to Jarāsandha’s conquests had been forcibly detained by him—twenty thousand such groups were now held captive in Girivraja. The kings, in their plight, cried out: “Krishna, Krishna, immeasurable soul, destroyer of the fears of those who seek refuge! We come to you for shelter, fearful of worldly existence and divided in mind. “The world is lost in unrighteousness, heedless of virtue, yet even this suffering arises from you for the sake of 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 into this world for the protection of the righteous and the subjugation of the wicked. Who can transgress your command, O master? Who can truly claim the fruit of his own actions? We do not know. “The happiness of kings is like a fleeting dream, dependent on others; ever burdened by fear, we bear 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 in this world. “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, have restrained the king who, like a lion among beasts, had confined us in his palace. “He, whose pride was unshakable and who delighted in conquering the world, 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 as is fitting.” 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.” Śuka continued: As the royal messenger spoke these words, the divine sage Nārada suddenly appeared—radiant, with tawny matted locks, like the sun itself. Seeing him, Bhagavān Krishna, Lord of all the lords of the worlds, rose from his seat with his assembly and followers, and joyfully bowed his head in respect. Krishna honored the sage properly, offering him a seat and speaking to him with words full of faith and reverence, satisfying him with his hospitality. Krishna inquired, “Is all well today among the three worlds, free from fear? Surely, the virtue of the Lord increases as you travel among the worlds. “Nothing is unknown to you in all the worlds, O Lord among creators. Therefore, we ask you: What do the Pāṇḍavas intend?” Śrī Nārada replied, “O Lord, I have seen your māyā many times—so difficult to overcome. You are the master, the creator of the universe, the wielder of māyā. As you move among beings with your own powers, your glory remains hidden, like fire concealed in wood. Thus, nothing you do 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 in the mind. I bow to you, whose true 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 relate 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. “The son of Pāṇḍu, desiring the status of Brahmā, will worship you with the Rājasūya sacrifice, O Lord. May you be pleased with this. “At that supreme sacrifice, O God, you will be seen by the gods and other illustrious kings, who will assemble there out of eagerness.