As the dust of battle began to settle, Draupadī, her face still streaked with tears, spoke with a heart heavy from loss. She pleaded that Gautamī, the mother of the offender, not be made to weep as she herself had wept, time and again, for her own slain sons. Her words carried the weight of a mother’s grief and compassion, wishing that no other mother should suffer as she had. Yet, she also reminded those present of the power of the brāhmaṇa lineage: should their anger be provoked by unruly kṣatriyas, even the purest among them and their families could be destroyed. This warning echoed the gravity of the situation, and the king, the son of Dharma, listened carefully. He accepted the queen’s words, recognizing their righteousness, justice, compassion, honesty, and impartiality. Gathered there were Nakula, Sahadeva, Yuyudhāna, Arjuna (Dhanañjaya), the divine son of Devakī—Kṛṣṇa—and others, both men and women, witnessing the tense moment. Bhīma, his anger unabated, declared that death was the only proper fate for one who, without cause or duty, killed sleeping children—not for his own sake, nor for his master. Hearing the conflicting voices of Bhīma and Draupadī, the four-armed Lord Kṛṣṇa, glancing affectionately at his friend, spoke with a gentle smile. He reminded them that while a brāhmaṇa—even if an aggressor—should not be killed, still, an aggressor deserves death. He had taught both sides, and now urged them to uphold his instruction. He further counseled Arjuna to fulfill the promise made to the Kuru line, a vow given to comfort his beloved, and to do what was dear to Bhīmasena, to Draupadī, and to Kṛṣṇa himself. Understanding the Lord’s intention, Arjuna quickly drew his sword and cut off the jewel, along with the hair, from the head of the twice-born offender. He released the man, whose brilliance was dimmed by the sin of killing a child, and, stripped of the jewel’s radiance, led him out of the camp, bound with a girdle. Shaving his head, taking away his wealth, and expelling him—this, Arjuna declared, was the bodily punishment for those who are brāhmaṇa in name only; there was no other. The Pāṇḍavas, wracked with grief for their son, together with Kṛṣṇā, performed the necessary funeral rites, carrying out the bodies of their dead. At this point, the seventh chapter began. Śrī Bhagavān spoke, affirming that what had been asked of him was exactly what he wished to do. Even Brahmā, Śiva, and the guardians of the worlds longed to dwell in his realm. Meanwhile, the people flourished in happiness, cared for by a loving couple who delighted in the cooing and babbling of their children. The gentle touch of their wings, their sweet sounds, and charming gestures brought joy to their parents, who, free from sorrow, felt their hearts bound by affection. Yet, deluded by Viṣṇu’s māyā, the couple, their minds troubled, continued to nurture their children and the people. One day, the two householders ventured into the forest to find food for their little ones. As they wandered, a hunter roaming the woods by chance saw the young birds near their nest, spread his net, and captured them. The parent pigeons, always eager to nourish their offspring, returned with food, only to find their children trapped. The mother, seeing her young ones ensnared, rushed toward them, crying out in distress as they called to her. Overcome by affection and sorrow, bewildered by illusion, she too became entangled in the net, losing awareness as she saw her children bound. The father, seeing his beloved children—dearer to him than life itself—and his wife, his equal, bound and helpless, lamented in deep sorrow. He bewailed his misfortune, regretting his futile pursuit of the three aims of household life, now left unsatisfied and unfulfilled. His devoted wife, his goddess, had departed, leaving him in an empty house, bereft of family and happiness. In his misery, he questioned the value of life itself. Surrounded by his offspring and seized by the grip of death, the pitiable bird, though aware of the danger, fell helplessly into the hunter’s snare. The cruel hunter, satisfied with his catch, took the pigeon family—householders all—back to his home. Thus, it was shown that a householder whose mind is not at peace, who delights in the dualities of life like a bird, and who maintains his family with attachment, sinks down, bound by those very ties. One who, having attained the rare human birth where the door to liberation is open, yet remains attached to household life like a bird, is known as one who, having climbed up, has fallen down. After these events, Sūta continued: Desiring to offer water for their departed relatives, the women, led by Kṛṣṇā, went to the Gaṅgā. There, after offering water and lamenting intensely, they bathed in the river sanctified by the lotus feet of Hari and by Brahmā, the unborn. There, Madhava saw the king of the Kurus, Dhṛtarāṣṭra, seated with his younger brother, along with Gāndhārī—stricken with grief for her sons—Pṛthā, and Kṛṣṇā. Along with the sages, he consoled those who had lost their relatives and were overwhelmed with sorrow, reminding them of the inevitable course of time, which none can resist. Having restored Ajātaśatru—Yudhiṣṭhira—to his own kingdom, which had been lost to gamblers, and having slain the unrighteous kings, Kṛṣṇa accomplished his purpose. He arranged for Yudhiṣṭhira to perform three horse sacrifices with excellent arrangements, spreading his pure fame in all directions, like Indra. Taking leave of the sons of Pāṇḍu, accompanied by Sātyaki and Uddhava, and honored by Vyāsa and other sages, Kṛṣṇa honored them in return. Having resolved to depart, he mounted his chariot to return to Dvārakā. As he was about to leave, Uttarā came running toward him, overwhelmed by fear. She cried out, “Protect me, protect me, O great yogin, God of gods, Lord of the universe! I see no other refuge but you, as death threatens on all sides.” She continued, “O Lord, a blazing iron arrow is rushing toward me! Let it burn me if it must, but, O master, do not let my unborn child be destroyed.” Hearing her desperate plea, the Lord, ever affectionate to his devotees, understood that the weapon of Droṇa’s son was intended to destroy the Pāṇḍava line.