After the great war, when grief still lingered in the hearts of the royal women, Sūta narrated how, desiring to offer sacred water for their departed kin, they journeyed to the banks of the Gaṅgā, led by Kṛṣṇā. There, after performing the ritual offerings and once more lamenting their losses with deep sorrow, they bathed in the holy river, sanctified by the touch of Hari’s lotus feet and by Brahmā, the unborn. As they gathered, Madhava—Lord Kṛṣṇa—beheld the king of the Kurus, Dhṛtarāṣṭra, seated alongside his younger brother, with Gāndhārī, still heavy with grief for her sons. Also present were Pṛthā and Kṛṣṇā, all enveloped in mourning. Kṛṣṇa, accompanied by the sages, comforted these bereaved souls, gently revealing to them the inevitable passage of time, which none can resist. Having restored Ajātaśatru, Yudhiṣṭhira, to his rightful kingdom—once lost to the deceit of gamblers—and having vanquished the unrighteous kings tainted by the influence of Kaca, Kṛṣṇa fulfilled his purpose. He arranged for Yudhiṣṭhira to perform three grand horse sacrifices, conducted with excellence, spreading pure fame throughout the world, much like Indra’s glory. When the time came for departure, Kṛṣṇa took leave of the sons of Pāṇḍu, accompanied by Sātyaki and Uddhava. Vyāsa and other sages honored him, and he honored them in return. With resolve to return to Dvārakā, Kṛṣṇa mounted his chariot. But just then, Uttarā came running toward him, overwhelmed by fear. Crying out, she pleaded, “Protect me, protect me, O great yogin, God of gods, Lord of the universe! Death threatens from every side, and I see no other refuge but you!” She explained her terror: “O Lord, a blazing iron arrow is rushing toward me! Let it burn me if it must, but do not let my unborn child be destroyed, O master!” Sūta continued: Hearing her desperate plea, the Lord—ever affectionate to his devotees—understood that the weapon unleashed by Droṇa’s son was intended to annihilate the Pāṇḍava lineage. The five Pāṇḍavas, seeing the fiery arrows approaching, seized their own weapons to defend themselves. Witnessing this calamity befall those who had placed their faith solely in him, Kṛṣṇa protected his people with his Sudarśana discus, his divine weapon. Hari, the master of yoga who dwells within all beings as their very self, shielded the embryo in Uttarā, descendant of the Kurus, with his own power. Though the Brahmaśiras weapon is unfailing and cannot be counteracted, it was subdued upon encountering Kṛṣṇa’s Vaiṣṇava might. Such wonders are not astonishing, for in Acyuta, the unborn one, all miracles reside—he who creates, maintains, and destroys the universe by his divine illusion. Freed from the destructive force, with her sons and with Kṛṣṇa, the virtuous Pṛthā—Kuntī—spoke to Kṛṣṇa as he prepared to depart. With reverence, she bowed and addressed him: “I bow to you, the original Person, the Lord, who is beyond material nature, invisible to all, yet present within and without. Covered by the veil of illusion, unknowable and imperishable, you remain unseen by those whose vision is clouded, just as an actor is hidden by his costume. For the sake of devotion among the pure-hearted sages, you reveal yourself; how can we women perceive you?” Kuntī continued, offering salutations: “Salutations to Kṛṣṇa, to Vāsudeva, to the son of Devakī, to the boy of Nanda and the cowherds, to Govinda—again and again, I bow. Salutations to the lotus-naveled, the lotus-garlanded, the lotus-eyed, and to you whose feet are like lotuses.” She recalled his mercy: “Just as Hṛṣīkeśa freed Devakī, who suffered long in Kaṃsa’s prison, so too, O Lord, you have repeatedly delivered me and my sons from many dangers: from deadly poison, from the great fire, from the man-eater’s gaze, from the assembly of the wicked, from hardships in the forest, from battles against mighty warriors, and from the weapon of Drauṇa, O Hari, you have protected us.” With humility, she prayed: “May calamities always befall us, O Guru of the world, so we may see you again and again, for seeing you means we shall not see repeated birth. Those who grow proud from birth, wealth, learning, and beauty cannot truly approach you, for you are accessible only to those who possess nothing.” She honored him: “Salutations to you, the wealth of those who have nothing, whose activity is free from the modes, who delights in the self, who is peaceful, and who is the Lord of liberation. I consider you to be Time itself—beginningless and endless, all-pervading, moving equally among all beings, from whom mutual discord arises. No one knows your intention, O Lord; your actions in this world bewilder men. You have no favorites or enemies, yet people imagine partiality.” Kuntī reflected: “Your birth and deeds as the soul of the universe, the unborn, non-acting self among beasts, humans, and aquatic creatures, are the utmost mockery. When the gopī took a rope to bind you for your mischief, and your eyes, troubled by fear, were smeared with tears and ointment, you bowed your face in dread—this bewilders me, for even the fearful fear you.” She mused on his purpose: “Some say the unborn was born for the fame of the virtuous in the Yadu line, just as sandalwood grows in Malaya. Others say, being requested by Vasudeva and Devakī, you appeared for the protection of the world and the destruction of those who hate the gods. Some say you were born at Brahmā’s request, when the earth was sinking under a heavy burden, to relieve her load. Others say you came to perform deeds worthy of being heard and remembered by those suffering from ignorance, desire, and action.” Kuntī declared: “Those who constantly hear, sing, praise, remember, and rejoice in your deeds soon behold your lotus feet, which end the flow of worldly existence. O Lord, will you now abandon us, your devoted friends and dependents, for whose sake there is no other refuge but your lotus feet, though we are bound to kingship and its sins? Who are we—the Pāṇḍavas and the Yadus—but mere names and forms? Without you, Lord of the senses, we are nothing.” She lamented: “O Gadādhara, this earth will not shine as it does now, adorned by your feet, marked with their unique signs. These lands prosper, herbs and plants ripen, forests, mountains, rivers, and oceans flourish—all because of your glances.” Thus, Kuntī’s heartfelt words echoed, expressing both gratitude and longing for the Lord whose presence sanctified all.