With deep humility, Kuntī addressed Lord Kṛṣṇa, reflecting on the nature of those who approach Him. She observed that pride arising from birth, wealth, learning, or beauty prevents one from truly reaching the Lord, for He is accessible only to those who possess nothing. She offered salutations to Him, the true wealth of the destitute, whose actions are untouched by the modes of nature, who delights in the Self, remains ever peaceful, and is the sovereign of liberation. Kuntī then contemplated the Lord as Time itself—beginningless and endless, all-pervading, impartial, and the source of all discord among beings. She acknowledged that no one can fathom His intentions; His actions in the world appear as playful mockery, for He has neither favorites nor enemies, though people imagine partiality where there is none. She marveled at the birth and deeds of the soul of the universe—the unborn, inactive Self—manifesting among beasts, humans, and aquatic creatures, as the highest form of divine play. One incident bewildered her especially: when the gopī tried to bind the mischievous child Kṛṣṇa with a rope, His eyes filled with fear and tears, and He bowed His face in dread, though even the most fearful beings fear Him. Kuntī recalled various opinions about the Lord’s descent. Some said the unborn took birth in the Yadu dynasty for the fame of the virtuous, just as sandalwood grows in the Malaya mountains. Others believed He appeared at the request of Vasudeva and Devakī to protect the world and destroy those hostile to the gods. Some claimed Brahmā had requested His birth when the earth, burdened and sinking, needed relief. Others thought He came to perform deeds that would be remembered by those suffering from ignorance, desire, and action. She affirmed that those who constantly hear, sing, praise, remember, and rejoice in His deeds soon behold His lotus feet, which end the cycle of worldly existence. With concern, she asked the Lord whether He would now abandon His devoted friends and dependents, for whom there is no refuge but His lotus feet, even though they are bound to kingship and its sins. Kuntī reflected on the insignificance of the Pāṇḍavas and Yadus, mere names and forms, insignificant when the Lord of the senses is unseen. She lamented that the earth would lose its radiance once it was no longer adorned by His feet, marked with unique signs. The prosperity of the lands, the ripening of herbs and plants, and the flourishing of forests, mountains, rivers, and oceans were all due to His gracious glances. Therefore, she prayed to the Lord of the universe to sever her strong bond of affection for the Pāṇḍavas and the Vṛṣṇis. She wished for her mind to bear love for Him alone, uninterrupted, like the Ganges flowing to the sea. She offered heartfelt obeisance to Śrī Kṛṣṇa—friend of Kṛṣṇa, chief of the Vṛṣṇis, destroyer of the unrighteous, fire among royal lines, liberator, Govinda, reliever of the distress of cows, brāhmaṇas, and gods, master of yoga, teacher of all. Sūta then narrated that, thus praised by Pṛthā’s sweet words, the all-auspicious Lord Vaikuṇṭha smiled gently, as if bewildering her with His māyā. Having affectionately bid her farewell, He entered Hastināpura. As He was about to depart for His own city with the women, King Yudhiṣṭhira stopped Him out of love. Despite being instructed by Vyāsa and other sages, and by Kṛṣṇa Himself—performer of wondrous deeds—and taught through histories, Yudhiṣṭhira could not understand, overwhelmed by grief. Thinking of the slaughter of his friends, he spoke, overcome by attachment and delusion, with the mind of ordinary men. He lamented his ignorance, deeply rooted in his heart, for he had caused the death of many armies for the sake of another’s body. Even if freed from hell for countless years, he would not escape the sin of harming children, brāhmaṇas, friends, kin, fathers, brothers, and teachers. Though killing enemies in righteous war is not sinful for a king who protects his people, these words of command brought him no comfort. He could not remove the enmity that had arisen against women whose relatives had been slain, nor could householders’ actions erase it. Just as mud cannot cleanse muddy water, nor liquor remove the stain of liquor, so too a single act of killing cannot be purified by sacrifices. Then, a sage spoke to the prince, instructing him to listen to the supreme secret mantra, which, when recited for seven nights, allows one to see those beings who move in the sky. The mantra was: “Om, obeisance to the Blessed Lord Vāsudeva.” With this mantra, the wise should perform worship with material offerings, knowing the proper place and time. The Lord should be worshipped with pure water, flowers, wild roots, fruits, tender sprouts, fresh garments, and especially the beloved tulasī leaves. Having obtained a material image for worship, whether of earth, water, or other elements, the sage—self-controlled, peaceful, restrained in speech, and moderate in food—should worship it. The Lord, praised in sublime verses, will manifest by His own inconceivable power and freely chosen deeds; one should meditate on Him as present in the heart. All previous forms of service should now be offered to the Lord’s form established by mantra, with the heart absorbed in the mantra. When the Lord is served with body, mind, and speech, and with devotion arising from the heart, He is truly worshipped. Those who are free from deceit and worship Him properly, the Lord increases their devotion and grants the highest good they desire, which is not attained by ordinary duties. One who is detached from sense pleasures should worship Him with constant and sincere devotion through the yoga of devotion, for complete liberation. Having been thus instructed, the prince circumambulated and bowed, then went to the sacred Madhuvana, sanctified by the Lord’s footprints. When he had gone to the forest of penance, the sage entered the inner chambers, was properly honored by the king, and, seated comfortably, spoke to him. Nārada asked the king why he sat long in thought, his face dried with sorrow. Was it because desire or duty, joined with wealth, was not being fulfilled? The king replied, “O brāhmaṇa, my son, a mere child of five, has been exiled with his mother by a cruel-hearted woman; he is a great sage.