Having bathed thoroughly in pure waters and clothed himself in clean garments, the most virtuous one commenced the sacred morning rituals. With controlled speech, he recited the Vedic mantras and made offerings into the fire, honoring the divine order. Turning towards the rising sun, he satisfied the different aspects of his own being through prescribed acts, and, with a tranquil mind, worshipped the gods, revered sages, ancestors, elders, and Brahmins. He generously bestowed upon the Brahmins cows with golden horns—gentle, virtuous animals, adorned with garlands of pearls, healthy, yielding abundant milk, accompanied by their calves, and draped in fine cloth. Day after day, he gifted these decorated Brahmins cows with silver-tipped hooves, together with linen, deer skins, and sesame seeds. Bowing reverently to the cows, Brahmins, deities, elders, teachers, and indeed all living beings, he invoked auspicious blessings, touching sacred objects that had arisen from his own lineage. Then, adorning himself—the very ornament of mankind—with his own splendid garments, jewels, divine garlands, and fragrant ointments, he prepared for the day. He gazed upon the sacrificial fire and the mirror, and distributed gifts to cows, bulls, Brahmins, and deities, fulfilling the wishes of all—citizens and women of the palace alike—winning their hearts and receiving their blessings. Garlands, betel, and fragrant ointments he first presented to the Brahmins, then to friends, attendants, and wives, and only afterwards did he enjoy these himself. Meanwhile, Suta, the charioteer, brought forth a wondrous chariot, yoked with noble horses like Sugriva and others, and stood before him, offering obeisance. Taking the charioteer’s hand in his own, he ascended the chariot, accompanied by Satyaki and Uddhava, shining like the sun rising over the eastern mountains. As he departed, the women of the palace gazed at him with bashful, loving glances, reluctant to let him go, their hearts captivated by his smile. Surrounded by the Vrishnis, he entered the assembly hall called Sudharma, a place where those seated are untouched by the six waves of suffering. Seated upon the highest throne, the Lord shone with his own radiance, illuminating all directions. Encircled by the heroic Yadus, he appeared like the moon among the stars in the night sky. There, the master of ceremonies and the dance teachers approached the Lord with laughter and joy, and the dancers performed various tandava dances. The sounds of mridanga, vina, muraja, flute, and cymbals filled the air as they danced, sang, and praised, while the Sutas, Magadhas, and bards offered their eulogies. Learned Brahmins, seated and well-versed in Brahman, narrated the stories of former kings of virtuous fame. At that moment, a man of remarkable appearance arrived. Announced by the doorkeepers, he was ushered in before Bhagavan. Bowing to Krishna, the Supreme Lord, with joined palms, he reported to the assembled kings the distress caused by Jarasandha’s imprisonment. He told how those kings who had not submitted to Jarasandha’s conquest were forcibly detained, and that two ten-thousand groups were held captive in Girivraja. The captive kings, through the messenger, addressed Krishna: "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 absorbed in unrighteous deeds, heedless of virtue; yet this action, arising from you, is for worshipping you. Whoever here, strong as he may be, suddenly cuts off the hope of life for the sleepless one—salutations to him. "You, O Lord, have descended for the protection of the righteous and the subjugation of the wicked. Who can transgress your command, O master? Or who attains the fruit of their own actions? We do not know. The happiness of kings is like a dream, dependent on others; always 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, restrained the king who, like a lion among beasts, had confined us in his palace. He, whose pride was firm 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 accordingly." The messenger added, "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, the divine sage Narada, radiant and bearing tawny matted locks, appeared suddenly, like the sun itself. Seeing him, Bhagavan Krishna, Lord of all the lords of the worlds, rose with his assembly and followers, joyfully bowing his head in respect. Honoring Narada properly and offering him a seat, Krishna addressed the sage with pleasing words, satisfying him with faith and reverence. "O revered one," Krishna inquired, "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 witnessed Your māyā many times—so 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 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 relate what is intended by the king, your devotee, the son of your paternal aunt, as he enacts a deed that amazes the world of men. The son of Pandu, desiring the status of Brahma, will worship You with the Rajasuya 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. By hearing, singing, or meditating upon You, O Lord of Brahman, even those who dwell near are purified—how much more so those who see or touch You? The pure fame of whose feet is renowned in heaven, on earth, and in the netherworld—whose water, called Mandakini in heaven, Bhogavati below, and Ganga here, sanctifies the universe—may that water, flowing from Your feet, bless all the worlds." Śuka concluded: As those on his own side grew eager for conquest, Keśava, smiling and with sweet words, addressed his servant Uddhava, preparing for the next course of action.