Although the Brahmaśiras weapon is renowned as unfailing and impossible to counteract, O best of the Bhṛgus, it was subdued when it encountered your Vaiṣṇava power. But do not consider this astonishing, for in Acyuta—He who is full of all wonders—the unborn Lord creates, maintains, and destroys this world through His divine illusion. Freed at last from the terror of the Brahma weapon, Kuntī, together with her sons and with Kṛṣṇa beside her, addressed Him as He prepared to depart. With humility and devotion, Kuntī spoke: “I bow to You, the original Person, the Supreme Lord, who stands beyond material nature, invisible to all beings, yet present both within and without. Veiled by Your own illusion, unknowable and imperishable, You cannot be seen by those whose vision is clouded, just as an actor remains hidden by his costume. For the sake of establishing devotion even among the greatest renunciants and pure-hearted sages, You reveal Yourself; how then can we women possibly perceive You? Again and again, I offer my salutations to Kṛṣṇa, to Vāsudeva, to the son of Devakī, to the beloved child of Nanda and the cowherds, to Govinda. My obeisance to You, whose navel is like a lotus, who is adorned with a garland of lotuses, whose eyes are lotus-like, and whose feet are as lovely as lotuses. Just as Hṛṣīkeśa freed Devakī, long tormented and imprisoned by the wicked Kaṃsa, so too, O Lord, have You again and again delivered me and my sons from many dangers: from deadly poison, from the raging fire, from the terrifying man-eater, from the assembly of the wicked, from the hardships of the forest, from the many battles with mighty warriors, and now, O Hari, from the weapon of Drauṇa. You have always protected us. May those calamities always befall us, O Teacher of the world, so that we may see You again and again, for when we behold You, we need not fear the endless cycle of birth and death. One who becomes proud because of birth, wealth, learning, or beauty cannot truly approach You, for You are accessible only to those who possess nothing. Again, I bow to You, the true wealth of the destitute, whose actions are free from the modes, who delights in the Self, who is ever peaceful, and who is the Lord of liberation. I see You as Time itself—the ruler, without beginning or end, all-pervading, impartial among all beings, and the source of all their conflicts. No one truly knows Your intention, O Lord. Your actions in this world bewilder men, for You have neither friend nor enemy, though people imagine You are partial. The appearance and deeds of the soul of the universe, the unborn and non-acting Self, among beasts, humans, and aquatic creatures, are the highest mystery. I am bewildered when I recall how, as a child, the gopī tried to bind You for Your mischief; Your eyes, full of tears and fear, were smeared with ointment, and You bowed Your face in dread—You, whom even the fearful fear! Some say the unborn was born in the Yadu dynasty for the fame of the virtuous, just as sandalwood grows only in the Malaya mountains. Others say that, at the request of Vasudeva and Devakī, You, the unborn Lord, appeared to protect the world and destroy those who hate the gods. Some say You were born at the request of Brahmā, when the earth, burdened and sinking like a boat in the ocean, needed relief. Others say You have come to perform deeds worthy of being heard and remembered by those who are suffering in this world from ignorance, desire, and karma. 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 faults? Who are we, the Pāṇḍavas, and even the Yadus, but mere names and forms? Without You, Lord of the senses, we are nothing. O Gadādhara, this earth will no longer shine as it does now, adorned by Your feet marked with their auspicious signs. These lands are prosperous, their herbs and plants are well-ripened, forests, mountains, rivers, and oceans flourish—all because of Your glance. Therefore, O Lord of the universe, soul of the universe, form of the universe, please sever this strong bond of affection in me for the Pāṇḍavas and the Vṛṣṇis. O Lord of Madhu, may my mind, with no other attachment, always flow toward You with love, just as the Ganges flows unbroken to the sea. O Śrī Kṛṣṇa, friend of Kṛṣṇa, chief of the Vṛṣṇis, destroyer of the unrighteous, fire among royal lines, whose power brings liberation, Govinda, who relieves the distress of cows, brāhmaṇas, and gods, master of yoga and teacher of all—I bow to You. Sūta said: Thus praised by Pṛthā with sweet and heartfelt words, the all-auspicious Lord Vaikuṇṭha smiled gently, as if to bewilder her with His divine maya. After affectionately bidding her farewell, He entered Hastināpura. Yet, as He was about to depart for His own city with the women, the king stopped Him, unable to bear His leaving. Though instructed by Vyāsa and other sages, and by Kṛṣṇa, performer of wondrous deeds, and though taught with many histories, the king could not understand, overwhelmed as he was by grief. The son of Dharma, thinking on the slaughter of his friends, spoke, O brāhmaṇas, his mind clouded by attachment and delusion, like any ordinary man. He lamented: “Alas, see my ignorance, deeply rooted in my wicked heart! For the sake of another’s body, I have caused the death of so many armies. Even if I were freed from hell for ten thousand times ten thousand years, I would not be released from the sin of harming children, brāhmaṇas, friends, kin, fathers, brothers, and teachers. They say that killing enemies in a righteous war is not a sin for a king who protects his people, yet these words of command bring me no peace. The enmity that has arisen here, especially among the women whose relatives have been slain by the actions of householders, I cannot dispel. Just as muddy water cannot be cleansed by mud, nor can liquor remove the stain of liquor, so too, a single act of killing cannot be purified by sacrifices. And now, O prince, listen to the supreme secret mantra: when recited for seven nights, it enables a person to see the beings who move in the sky. ‘Om, obeisance to the Blessed Lord Vāsudeva.’ With this mantra of the Lord, the wise should worship, offering various substances at the proper place and time.” Thus, the story unfolds—of the Lord’s wondrous power, Kuntī’s deep devotion and gratitude, her prayers for detachment and pure love, and the king’s grief and remorse, seeking understanding and liberation in the presence of the Supreme.