As the crisis unfolded, Arjuna, the mighty warrior, first purified himself with water, focusing his mind deeply. Though he did not know how to withdraw it, he invoked the formidable Brahmāstra weapon, compelled by the nearness of death. Instantly, a fierce and blazing energy erupted in all directions, threatening life itself. Confronted by this peril, Arjuna turned to Lord Viṣṇu—his friend and charioteer—seeking guidance. “O Kṛṣṇa, Kṛṣṇa, mighty-armed one,” Arjuna cried, “Only you can remove the fear of your devotees. You alone are the deliverance from the burning suffering of this endless cycle of birth and death. You are the original person, the Supreme Lord, beyond nature itself. You cast aside illusion with your power of consciousness, remaining ever established in the Self, in perfect oneness. By your own strength, you bestow the highest good—dharma and all virtues—upon living beings whose minds are deluded by your māyā. You have descended to earth in this incarnation to relieve its burden, and for the constant meditation of your devoted ones. But what is this, O God of gods? I do not know. From all sides, a terrible and blazing energy approaches.” 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 draws near. There is no other weapon that can counteract this; only another Brahmāstra can neutralize its force, for only one skilled in weapons can subdue such energy.” Hearing these words, Arjuna, destroyer of enemy heroes, circumambulated Lord Kṛṣṇa, purified himself by touching water, and invoked the Brahmāstra to counter the weapon that threatened all. The energies of both weapons met, their arrows enveloping the earth and sky, growing in intensity like the fire of the sun. The blazing energy of the two weapons seemed to burn the three worlds, and all beings, scorched and terrified, thought the fire of destruction itself had come. Seeing this turmoil, and recalling Vāsudeva’s instruction, Arjuna withdrew both weapons, calming the chaos. Then, swiftly approaching the fierce son of Gautamī—Aśvatthāmā—whose eyes blazed with anger, Arjuna bound him with ropes as one would bind a wild animal. Dragging his captive, Arjuna intended to take him to the camp. But as he did so, the lotus-eyed Lord Kṛṣṇa, enraged, spoke sternly: “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 a wicked person, devoid of compassion, who sustains his life by destroying others—his death is 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.” Yet, as Arjuna weighed dharma and was urged by Kṛṣṇa, he could not bring himself to kill the son of his teacher, even though Aśvatthāmā was a great offender. Returning to their camp, Arjuna reported to his grieving wife, Draupadī, who mourned her slain sons. There, the son of his teacher, Aśvatthāmā, was brought bound like an animal, his face turned downward in shame for his deed, his glory stripped away by Kṛṣṇa. His mother, Kṛpī, tender by nature and bowed with compassion, could not bear to see her son thus. She pleaded, “Release him, release him! He is a brāhmaṇa, truly a guru. The secret science of archery, with 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 himself remains in Kṛpī, the mother who bore this heroic child. Therefore, O knower of dharma, 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 have wept 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.” King Yudhiṣṭhira, son of Dharma, accepted the queen’s words, recognizing their righteousness, justice, compassion, honesty, and impartiality. Nakula, Sahadeva, Yuyudhāna, Dhanañjaya, the divine son of Devakī, and others—both men and women—were present. But Bhīma, inflamed with anger, declared that death was proper for one who, without cause, kills sleeping children, not for the sake of his master or himself. Hearing both Bhīma’s and Draupadī’s words, the four-armed Lord Kṛṣṇa, looking upon Arjuna’s face, spoke gently: “A brāhmaṇa, even if an aggressor, should not be killed; yet an aggressor deserves death. I have taught both sides—uphold my instruction. Fulfill the promise you made to the Kuru line, which you gave to comfort your beloved; and what is dear to Bhīmasena, to Draupadī, and to me as well.” Suddenly understanding the intention of Hari, Arjuna drew his sword and, instead of taking Aśvatthāmā’s life, cut off the jewel and the hair from his head. He released him, bound with a girdle, his brilliance dimmed by the sin of killing a child and deprived of the jewel’s radiance, and led him out from the camp. Shaving the head, taking away wealth, and expelling from one’s place—this, it was said, is the bodily punishment for those who are brāhmaṇa in name only; there is no other. All the Pāṇḍavas, afflicted with grief for their son, together with Draupadī, performed the necessary rites for their dead, such as carrying out the bodies. Thus, the seventh chapter began. Śrī Bhagavān said: “What you have asked of me, O greatly fortunate one, is exactly what I wish to do. Brahmā, Śiva, the guardians of the worlds—all desire to dwell in my realm.