Sūta began to speak, describing the nature of devotion to the Supreme Lord Hari. He explained that even great sages, who are entirely self-satisfied and free from all worldly bonds, still perform unmotivated, causeless devotion to Hari, for His divine qualities are so wondrous and captivating. He then spoke of the venerable Vyāsa, the son of Badarāyaṇa, whose heart had been wholly enchanted by the Lord’s virtues. This sage, ever devoted, constantly studied the grand narrative—so dear to the hearts of Viṣṇu’s devotees. Sūta announced that he would now recount the birth, deeds, and departure of King Parīkṣit, the passing of the sons of Pāṇḍu, and the rise of the story of Kṛṣṇa. He set the scene: In the great war between the Kauravas and the Sṛñjayas, when the mighty warriors had met their fated end, the son of Dhṛtarāṣṭra, Duryodhana, lay on the battlefield, his thighs shattered by the force of Bhīma’s mace. Witnessing this, Aśvatthāmā—driven by a desire to please his fallen master—committed a terrible and infamous deed. Under cover of night, he entered the camp of the Pāṇḍavas and cruelly severed the heads of the sleeping sons of Draupadī (Kṛṣṇā), an act condemned by all, for it brought only harm and infamy. When the grieving mother, Draupadī, heard of the dreadful slaughter of her sons, she was overwhelmed with sorrow. Tears streamed from her eyes as she wept bitterly. To console her, Arjuna, the hero adorned with a diadem, spoke gently to her. He said, “O gentle lady, I shall remove your sorrow. With arrows released from my Gāṇḍīva bow, I will bring you the head of that brahma-bandhu, the aggressor, so that, after you have performed the funeral rites for your sons, you may bathe and find some solace.” Having comforted his beloved with sweet and reassuring words, Arjuna, the son of Pāṇḍu and friend of Acyuta (Kṛṣṇa), set out in anger to pursue the mighty-armed son of his teacher, Aśvatthāmā. His chariot, bearing the banner of Hanumān, thundered across the earth. From afar, Aśvatthāmā saw Arjuna approaching, and his mind became deeply agitated. In fear for his life, he fled in his chariot across the land, seeking escape, just as one flees from the sun in dread of Rudra. Finding himself cornered, his horses exhausted, and with no refuge left, Aśvatthāmā, the twice-born son of Droṇa, considered his only hope for survival: the invocation of the Brahmāstra, the supreme weapon. He purified himself with water, concentrated his mind, and invoked that terrible weapon, though he did not know how to withdraw it—a grave danger as death loomed near. Suddenly, a fierce and blazing energy surged forth in all directions. Seeing this life-threatening force, Arjuna turned to Kṛṣṇa, the Supreme Lord. He prayed, “O Kṛṣṇa, Kṛṣṇa, mighty-armed one, you alone remove fear from your devotees. You deliver us from the burning afflictions of repeated birth and death. You are the original person, the direct Lord, transcendent over nature and illusion, ever established in your own Self. By your strength, you bestow the highest good—dharma and all virtues—upon those deluded by your māyā. This incarnation of yours has appeared on earth to relieve its burden and to provide constant meditation for your devoted ones. O God of gods, what is this blazing force advancing from all sides? I do not know its origin.” 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, as death approaches him. There is no other weapon that can counteract this, save another Brahmāstra. Only one skilled in the science of weapons can subdue such energy.” Hearing these words, Arjuna circumambulated Kṛṣṇa, touched water for purification, and invoked his own Brahmāstra to neutralize Aśvatthāmā’s weapon. The energies of both Brahmāstras collided, enveloping the earth and sky with a radiance like the sun’s fire, growing ever more intense. All beings, seeing this conflagration threatening the three worlds, believed the fire of destruction itself had come. Observing the distress among the people and the upheaval in the worlds, Arjuna remembered Vāsudeva’s instructions and, with his mastery, withdrew both weapons. Then, swiftly approaching the fierce son of Gautamī (Aśvatthāmā), whose eyes burned red with anger, Arjuna bound him with ropes as one would bind a wild animal. Dragging the bound enemy with the intention of bringing him to their camp, Arjuna was stopped by the lotus-eyed Lord Kṛṣṇa, who, enraged, spoke to him: “O Pārtha, do not spare this one! Slay this so-called brāhmaṇa, who, though brāhmaṇa in name, slew innocent, sleeping children at night.” He continued, “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 one who sustains his own life by destroying the lives of others, devoid of compassion, is better off dead; for by such sin, a man falls down. And you promised Draupadī, in my presence, ‘I will bring you the head of the 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 and bringing disgrace to his lineage.” Yet, as Arjuna pondered the true path of dharma, urged by Kṛṣṇa, he was reluctant to kill the son of his own teacher, despite his grave offense. Returning to the camp, Arjuna reported to his grieving wife, Draupadī, who mourned her slain sons. When Kṛpī, the gentle-natured mother of Aśvatthāmā, saw her son brought like an animal, bound and his face cast downward in shame for his deed, deprived of his glory by Kṛṣṇa, she bowed her head, filled with compassion. Unable to bear the sight of her son bound and led away, the faithful wife cried out, “Release him, release him! He is a brāhmaṇa, truly a guru. The secret science of archery, its use and withdrawal, and the array of weapons—all this you learned from him by his father’s favor. That same venerable Droṇa now exists in the form of his son; half of him remains in Kṛpī, the mother who bore this heroic child. Therefore, O knower of dharma, O great one, your noble family, honored and revered, should not incur infamy through such an act. Let his mother Gautamī, devoted to her husband, not weep as I, with a face wet with tears, have wept again and again for my dead sons. If the brāhmaṇa lineage is angered by unruly kṣatriyas, that lineage quickly destroys them and their kin, even if they are pure.” Hearing her words, the son of Dharma, King Yudhiṣṭhira, accepted the queen’s counsel, recognizing her words as righteous, just, compassionate, honest, and impartial. Thus, the course of dharma was upheld amidst sorrow and trial.