In the tranquil āśrama, graced by clusters of badarī trees, the venerable sage Vyāsa settled himself. He purified his body with water and, by his own will, gathered his mind into deep concentration. Through steadfast devotion, Vyāsa’s mind became pure and unwavering, and in that state, he beheld the Supreme Person in His fullness—and also Māyā, standing dependent on Him. By Māyā’s power, Vyāsa saw how living beings, though inherently spiritual and transcendent, become deluded. They mistake themselves for beings made of the three guṇas, imagine misfortune, and accept the suffering she brings. Moved by compassion for those who suffer thus, the wise Vyāsa composed the Sātvata Saṃhitā, a scripture teaching direct devotion to the Transcendent, for the benefit of those unaware of their true nature. In this scripture, when it is heard, devotion to Kṛṣṇa, the Supreme Person, arises in the heart, dispelling sorrow, delusion, and fear. Having arranged the Bhāgavata Saṃhitā in proper order, Vyāsa imparted it to his son Śuka, who was deeply devoted to renunciation. At this point, Śaunaka, the sage, questioned: “Śuka, so self-satisfied and indifferent to all, why did he, who delighted in the Self, study this great work?” Sūta replied: “Even those sages who are self-satisfied and free from all bonds perform causeless devotion to Hari, for His qualities are wondrous and captivating.” Indeed, the son of Badarāyaṇa—Śuka—his mind enraptured by Hari’s virtues, constantly studied this great narrative, ever dear to the devotees of Viṣṇu. Now, Sūta continued, “I will recount for you the birth, deeds, and departure of King Parīkṣit, the passing of the sons of Pāṇḍu, and the rise of Kṛṣṇa’s story. When, in the great battle between the Kauravas and the Sṛñjayas, the mighty warriors had met their fate, and the son of Dhṛtarāṣṭra lay with his thighs broken by Bhīma’s mace, a grievous event took place. Aśvatthāmā, desiring to please his master, committed a heinous act: he entered the camp at night and severed the heads of the sleeping sons of Kṛṣṇā (Draupadī), bringing only harm—a deed condemned by all. When Draupadī heard of this dreadful slaughter, she was overwhelmed by grief. Her eyes streamed with tears as she wept for her sons. To console her, Arjuna, crowned with a diadem, spoke gently: ‘O gentle lady, I will remove your sorrow. With arrows from Gāṇḍīva, I will bring you the head of that brahma-bandhu, the aggressor, so that you may bathe after cremating your sons.’ Thus comforting his beloved with sweet and varied words, Arjuna, the son of Acyuta’s friend, set out in anger to pursue the mighty-armed son of his teacher, his chariot bearing the banner of Hanumān. Sensing Arjuna’s approach from afar, Aśvatthāmā, his mind agitated, fled across the earth in his chariot, desperate to save his life—much like one fleeing the sun out of fear of Rudra. Finding himself without refuge and his horses exhausted, the twice-born son of Droṇa saw no other means of defense. As death drew near, he purified himself with water and invoked the terrible Brahmāstra weapon, though he did not know how to withdraw it. A fierce, blazing energy then manifested in all directions. Seeing this threat to life, Arjuna turned to Viṣṇu and prayed: ‘O Kṛṣṇa, Kṛṣṇa, mighty-armed one, you alone remove the fear of your devotees. You are the deliverer from the burning suffering of birth and death. You are the original Person, the direct Lord, transcendent over nature, established in the Self, beyond illusion. You bestow the highest good—dharma and other virtues—upon deluded beings by your own power. This incarnation of yours has appeared on earth to relieve its burden and for the constant meditation of your devotees. What is this, O God of gods? From all sides, a most terrible and blazing energy approaches, and I do not know its source.’ The Blessed Lord replied, ‘Know this to be the Brahmāstra weapon unleashed by the son of Droṇa. He does not know how to withdraw it, and death is near. There is no other weapon that can counteract this except another of the same kind. Only one skilled in weapons can subdue the energy of a weapon with another.’ Hearing these words, Arjuna, destroyer of enemy heroes, circumambulated the Lord, touched water, and invoked his own Brahmāstra to counter the weapon. The energies of both weapons, meeting and enveloped by a rain of arrows, covered the earth and sky, blazing like the fire of the sun. The fiery energy of those weapons scorched the three worlds, and all beings believed it was the fire of destruction. Observing the turmoil among the people and remembering Vāsudeva’s instruction, Arjuna withdrew both weapons. He then swiftly approached the fierce son of Gautamī (Aśvatthāmā), his eyes red with anger, and bound him with ropes as one binds a wild animal. Dragging the enemy, bound and helpless, Arjuna intended to take him to the camp. The lotus-eyed Lord, enraged, spoke to Arjuna: ‘O Pārtha, do not spare this one! Kill this so-called brāhmaṇa, who, though a brāhmaṇa in name, slew innocent, sleeping children at night.’ ‘One who knows dharma does not kill an enemy who is intoxicated, distracted, insane, asleep, a child, a woman, helpless, surrendered, unarmed, or afraid. But the wicked person, devoid of compassion, who sustains his own life by destroying the lives of others—his death is truly better, for by such sin a man falls down. And you promised Draupadī, in my hearing, “I will bring the head of that arrogant slayer of your sons.” Therefore, let this sinful one be slain—he is an aggressor, a killer of kin, and has committed a vile act displeasing to his master, bringing disgrace to his lineage.’ Thus, while Arjuna was weighing dharma and urged by Kṛṣṇa, he did not wish to kill the son of his teacher, even though he was a great offender. Returning to the camp, Arjuna, beloved of Govinda, reported all to his grieving wife, who mourned her slain sons. There, seeing the son of his teacher brought like an animal—bound with ropes, his face downcast in shame for his deed, and his glory taken away by Kṛṣṇa—Kṛpī, gentle by nature, was bowed with compassion.