After offering water with deep lamentation, the bereaved gathered by the sacred river, whose waters had been sanctified by the lotus feet of Hari and by the presence of Brahmā, the unborn. There they bathed, seeking purification and solace for their grief. At that place, Mādhava—Śrī Kṛṣṇa—came upon the king of the Kurus, Dhṛtarāṣṭra, seated with his younger brother. With them were Gāndhārī, her heart broken over the loss of her sons, Pṛthā (Kuntī), and Kṛṣṇā (Draupadī). All were weighed down by sorrow. Kṛṣṇa, together with the assembled sages, gently consoled these stricken souls, reminding them of the inevitable course of time, which none can avert, and which brings all beings to their destined ends. Having restored to Ajātaśatru (Yudhiṣṭhira) his rightful kingdom, once lost in the deceitful game of dice, and having vanquished the unrighteous kings tainted by the touch of Kaca, Kṛṣṇa fulfilled his purpose. Under his guidance, Yudhiṣṭhira performed three splendid horse sacrifices, spreading his pure fame in all directions, as Indra does in the heavens. When the time came for Kṛṣṇa to depart, he took leave of the sons of Pāṇḍu. Sātyaki and Uddhava accompanied him, and Vyāsa and the other sages honored him with reverence, which he returned with equal grace. Having decided to return to Dvārakā, Kṛṣṇa mounted his chariot. But as he prepared to leave, Uttarā, trembling with fear, rushed toward him, calling out for protection. Overwhelmed, Uttarā cried, “Protect me, protect me, O great yogin, God of gods, Lord of the universe! I see no other refuge but you, for death approaches from all sides.” She revealed her terror: “O Lord, a blazing iron arrow speeds toward me! Let it consume me if it must, but, O master, do not let my unborn child be destroyed.” Hearing her desperate plea, Kṛṣṇa, ever affectionate to his devotees, understood that the weapon unleashed by Droṇa’s son was meant to destroy the Pāṇḍava lineage. At that moment, the five Pāṇḍavas saw the fiery arrows descending upon them and took up their weapons in defense. Yet, seeing this great calamity threatening those who had fixed their minds solely upon him, Kṛṣṇa shielded his own people with the Sudarśana discus, his divine weapon. Hari, the master of yoga, who dwells within all beings as their very self, by his own power enveloped the embryo within Uttarā, protecting the future of the Kurus. Though the Brahmaśiras weapon is unfailing and cannot be counteracted, it was subdued upon encountering Kṛṣṇa’s Vaiṣṇava might. Such is not astonishing, for in Acyuta, full of wonders, the unborn one creates, maintains, and destroys the world by his divine illusion. Freed from the terrible power of the Brahma weapon, Uttarā, her sons, and Kṛṣṇa stood unharmed. Then the virtuous Pṛthā (Kuntī), with her sons and Kṛṣṇa about to depart, spoke these heartfelt words to him. Kuntī said, “I bow to you, the original Person, the Lord who is beyond material nature, invisible to all yet present within and without. Covered by your own illusory power, unknowable and imperishable, you are not seen by those whose vision is clouded, just as an actor is hidden by his costume. For the sake of establishing devotion in the pure-hearted sages, you reveal yourself—but how can we women possibly perceive you? “Again and again, I offer my salutations to Kṛṣṇa, to Vāsudeva, to the son of Devakī, to the darling of Nanda and the cowherds, to Govinda. I bow to you, lotus-naveled, lotus-garlanded, lotus-eyed, whose feet are like lotuses. “Just as Hṛṣīkeśa freed Devakī, who suffered long in the prison of wicked Kaṁsa, 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 with mighty warriors, and now from the weapon of Drauṇa. O Hari, you have always protected us. “May those calamities always befall us, O Guru of the world, so that we may see you again and again, for seeing you means we shall not suffer 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. I bow to you, the wealth of the destitute, who acts beyond the modes, delights in the self, is ever peaceful, and is the Lord of liberation. “I see you as Time itself—the ruler, beginningless and endless, all-pervading, impartial, moving equally among all beings, from whom discord arises. None can know your true intention, O Lord; your actions in this world bewilder men. You have no one whom you favor or hate, yet people imagine partiality in you. The birth and deeds of the soul of the universe, the unborn, actionless self, among beasts, humans, and aquatic creatures—these are the greatest mystery. “When the gopī took a rope to bind you for your mischief, and your eyes, troubled by fear, were smeared with tears and ointment, and you bowed your face in dread—this bewilders me, for even the fearful fear you. “Some say the unborn was born for the fame of the virtuous in the Yadu line, just as sandalwood grows in Malaya. Others say you appeared at the request of Vasudeva and Devakī, to protect the world and destroy those who hate the gods. Some say you were born at Brahmā’s request, when the earth was burdened and sinking, to relieve her load. Still others say you came to perform deeds worthy of being heard and remembered by those suffering from ignorance, desire, and action. “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, the Lord of the senses, we are nothing. “O Gadādhara, this earth will not shine as it does now, adorned by your feet, marked with their unique signs. These lands are prosperous, their herbs and plants well-ripened; forests, mountains, rivers, and oceans flourish, all because of your glances. “Therefore, O Lord of the universe, soul of the universe, form of the universe, please cut this strong bond of affection in me for the Pāṇḍavas and the Vṛṣṇis.” With these words, Kuntī offered her heart in devotion, expressing both her gratitude and her longing for the Lord’s presence, even amidst sorrow and loss.