Kuntī, the noble mother of the Pāṇḍavas, poured out her heart to Kṛṣṇa, the Lord of the senses. With humility, she reflected, “Who are we, the Pāṇḍavas, and who are the Yadus, but passing names and forms? Without your presence, O Lord, we are nothing at all.” She gazed upon Him, feeling the weight of impending separation. “O Gadādhara,” she continued, “when your lotus feet, adorned with their unique marks, no longer grace this earth, it will lose its luster and beauty.” She spoke of how the entire land seemed prosperous—the herbs and plants flourished, forests and mountains thrived, rivers and oceans were full—all because of His compassionate glances. “It is your presence, O Lord, that brings abundance and peace to all the world.” With deep sincerity, Kuntī prayed, “O Lord of the universe, soul of the universe, embodiment of the universe, please sever the powerful bond of affection I feel for the Pāṇḍavas and the Vṛṣṇis. May my mind, without distraction, be ever devoted to you directly, as the sacred Ganges flows unbroken to the sea.” Her devotion overflowed as she praised Him: “O Śrī Kṛṣṇa, friend of Arjuna, chief of the Vṛṣṇis, destroyer of the wicked, blazing fire among kings, whose power liberates the soul, Govinda—reliever of the distress of cows, brāhmaṇas, and gods, master of yoga, teacher of all—I bow to you.” Hearing Kuntī’s heartfelt words, Sūta narrates that the all-auspicious Lord, Vaikuṇṭha Himself, smiled gently at her, as if enveloping her in His divine māyā. After affectionately bidding her farewell, Kṛṣṇa entered Hastināpura. But as He was about to depart for His own city, accompanied by the women, King Yudhiṣṭhira stopped Him, unable to bear the thought of His leaving. Despite guidance from Vyāsa and other sages, and even from Kṛṣṇa, performer of wondrous deeds, Yudhiṣṭhira could not find solace. The teachings and stories did not ease his heart, for he was overwhelmed by grief. Thinking constantly of the friends and kin lost in battle, he spoke with a mind clouded by ordinary human sorrow. He lamented, “Alas, see my ignorance, deeply rooted in my sinful heart! For the sake of another’s kingdom, I have caused the death of countless warriors. Even if I were freed from hell for millions of years, I would not be absolved of the sin of harming children, brāhmaṇas, friends, relatives, fathers, brothers, and teachers. Though the scriptures declare that a king who protects his people does not incur sin by fighting a righteous war, these words bring me no peace.” He continued, “The enmity that has arisen here among women whose loved ones have been slain—caused by the actions of householders like myself—I am powerless to dispel. 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.” At this point, a sage addressed the prince, saying, “Now, O prince, listen to the supreme secret mantra. If recited for seven nights, it enables one to see the celestial beings who move in the sky. The mantra is: Om, obeisance to the Blessed Lord Vāsudeva. With this, the wise should perform worship, using various offerings, knowing the proper place and time.” He instructed further: “Worship the Lord with pure water, flowers, wild roots, fruits, tender sprouts, fresh garments, and especially the beloved tulasī leaves. Obtain a material image for worship—of earth, water, or other elements—and, remaining self-controlled, peaceful, restrained in speech, and moderate in food, honor the Lord’s form. The Lord, praised in sublime verses, will manifest by His own inconceivable power and free will; meditate on Him as present in your heart. All the forms of service you have performed before should now be offered to the Lord’s form established by mantra, with your heart absorbed in devotion.” “When the Lord is served with body, mind, and speech, and with heartfelt devotion, He is truly worshipped. To those who are free from deceit and worship Him properly, the Lord increases their devotion and grants the highest good, which is not attained by ordinary duties. One who is detached from sense pleasures should worship Him with constant, sincere devotion through the yoga of devotion, for complete liberation.” Having received these instructions, the prince circumambulated the sage, bowed deeply, and went to the sacred forest of Madhuvana, sanctified by the Lord’s own footprints. When he had entered this forest of penance, the sage went to the king’s inner chambers. The king honored him properly and, when the sage was comfortably seated, the sage asked, “O King, why do you sit so long in thought, your face dried with sorrow? Is it that desire or duty, joined with wealth, has not been 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, yet helpless in the forest. May the wolves not harm that child—tired, lying down, hungry, his lotus-face withered. Alas, look at my wretchedness, conquered by a woman! I did not welcome that innocent one, who wished to climb into my lap out of love—how base I am!” Nārada consoled him: “O protector of the people, do not grieve for your son, who is guarded by the gods. Not knowing his greatness, you lament, though his fame will spread throughout the world. Having performed a deed difficult even for the guardians of the worlds, he will soon win for you a fame that will become immense.” Maitreya continued the tale: Hearing these words from the divine sage, the king, disregarding royal opulence, thought only of his son. There, after being consecrated and purified, he spent the night in observance, and with a focused mind, served the Supreme Person as instructed. At the end of every three nights, subsisting only on wood-apple and jujube fruits, he spent a month worshipping Hari to the best of his ability. In the second month, on every sixth day, the boy prepared food from fallen leaves and grass, offering it to the Lord. During the third month, on every ninth day, he lived on water alone, absorbed in meditation on the Glorious Lord. In the fourth month, on every twelfth day, he sustained himself on air, having conquered his breath, and continued his meditation. When the fifth month arrived, the prince, having mastered his breath, stood on one leg, unmoving like a pillar, meditating on the Absolute. Withdrawing his mind from all else and fixing it in his heart—the seat of the elements and senses—he meditated deeply on the form of the Lord, seeing nothing else.