As the fierce energies of the weapons unleashed by Arjuna and Aśvatthāmā blazed across the three worlds, their fiery radiance scorched all beings. The creatures of the universe, overwhelmed by the heat, believed they were witnessing the fire of ultimate destruction. In the midst of this turmoil, Arjuna observed the panic spreading among the people and the disturbance shaking the worlds. Remembering the instructions of Vāsudeva, he withdrew both weapons, restoring peace. Arjuna then swiftly approached the fierce Aśvatthāmā, the son of Gautamī, whose eyes burned red with anger. Without hesitation, Arjuna bound him with ropes, as one would bind a wild animal. Dragging his enemy, tied and subdued, Arjuna intended to bring him to the camp. At that moment, the lotus-eyed Lord Kṛṣṇa, enraged by the crime, spoke to Arjuna: “O Pārtha, do not spare this one! Kill this so-called brāhmaṇa, who, though brāhmaṇa in name, slew innocent, sleeping children at night.” Kṛṣṇa continued, reminding Arjuna of dharma: “One who knows dharma does not kill an enemy who is intoxicated, distracted, insane, asleep, a child, a woman, helpless, surrendered, unarmed, or afraid. Yet, this wicked person, devoid of compassion, has sustained 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.” As Arjuna pondered the principles of dharma and was urged by Kṛṣṇa, he found himself unwilling to kill the son of his teacher, even though Aśvatthāmā was a great offender. Returning to his own camp, Arjuna, the charioteer dear to Govinda, reported to Draupadī, who grieved for her slain sons. Seeing the son of her teacher brought like an animal, bound with ropes, his face turned downward in shame for his deed, and his glory diminished by Kṛṣṇa, Kṛpī, tender by nature, bowed with compassion. Unable to bear the sight of her husband bound and led away, the faithful wife 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 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, 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.” The son of Dharma, King Yudhiṣṭhira, accepted the queen's words, which were righteous, just, compassionate, honest, and impartial. Nakula, Sahadeva, Yuyudhāna, Dhanañjaya, the divine son of Devakī, and many others, both men and women, were present. Bhīma, enraged, declared that death was the proper fate for one who, without cause, kills sleeping children—not for the sake of his master or himself. Hearing Bhīma’s words and those of Draupadī, the four-armed Lord Kṛṣṇa, looking at Arjuna’s face, spoke with a gentle smile: “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 Kuru, which you gave to comfort your beloved; and what is dear to Bhīmasena, to Draupadī, and to me as well.” Suddenly understanding Hari’s intention, Arjuna took his sword and cut off the jewel along with the hair from the head of the twice-born Aśvatthāmā. Releasing him—bound with a girdle, his brilliance dimmed by the sin of killing a child, deprived of the jewel’s radiance—Arjuna led him out from the camp. Shaving the head, taking away wealth, and expelling from one’s place is the bodily punishment for those who are brāhmaṇa in name only; there is no other. The Pāṇḍavas, afflicted with grief for their son, together with Kṛṣṇā, performed the necessary rites for their dead, such as carrying out the bodies. At this point begins the seventh chapter. 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.” Meanwhile, the people flourished in happiness, as the loving couple cared for their children, listening with delight to their cooing and babbling speech. By the gentle touch of their wings, their cooing, and their charming gestures, as the little ones approached, their parents, who were now without sorrow, felt joy. Their hearts bound by affection, deluded by Viṣṇu’s māyā, the two, with troubled minds, nurtured their children and the people. Once, those two householders went out for the sake of their young ones; in that forest, seeking food, they wandered for a long time. By chance, a certain hunter, roaming the forest, spread his net and captured the young ones as they moved near their nest. The male and female pigeons, always eager to nourish their offspring, having obtained food, returned to their own nest. The female pigeon, seeing her own children trapped in the net, rushed toward them, crying out, greatly distressed as they cried. Filled with affection and a sorrowful heart, bewildered by illusion, she herself became ensnared in the net, seeing her young ones bound and losing awareness. The male pigeon, seeing his beloved children bound—dearer to him than life—and his wife, equal to himself, lamented in great sorrow: “Alas, see my misery—of little merit and foolish mind! Unsatisfied, unfulfilled, my householder’s pursuit of the three aims of life is ruined. She who was my devoted and agreeable wife, my goddess, has left me in this empty house, going to heaven with our sons, the virtuous ones.