Kuntī, with her heart heavy and full of love for her family, addressed the Lord of the universe, the soul and form of all creation. She prayed, “O Lord, please cut this powerful bond of affection I feel for the Pāṇḍavas and the Vṛṣṇis.” She yearned for her mind to be freed from all other attachments, so that her love would flow directly to Śrī Kṛṣṇa, unbroken and pure like the sacred Ganges merging into the sea. With deep reverence, she praised Kṛṣṇa: “O friend of Kṛṣṇa, chief of the Vṛṣṇis, destroyer of the unrighteous, blazing fire among kings, whose power liberates, Govinda, who relieves the distress of cows, brāhmaṇas, and gods, master of yoga and teacher of all, I bow to you.” Hearing these heartfelt words, Sūta narrated that the all-auspicious Lord Vaikuṇṭha smiled gently, his expression touched by the mysterious play of his māyā. After affectionately bidding Kuntī farewell, Kṛṣṇa entered Hastināpura. As he prepared to leave for his own city with the women, King Yudhiṣṭhira stopped him out of deep love. Despite the teachings of Vyāsa and other sages, and the wondrous instructions of Kṛṣṇa himself, Yudhiṣṭhira remained overwhelmed by grief. Even when taught through histories and wise counsel, he could not find clarity. The king, son of Dharma, was tormented by memories of the slaughter of his friends. Overcome by attachment and confusion, he spoke with the mind of an ordinary man: “Alas, see my ignorance, rooted deep in my wicked heart! For the sake of another’s body, I have caused the death of countless armies. Even if I were freed from hell for ten thousand times ten thousand years, I would not escape the sin of harming children, brāhmaṇas, friends, kin, fathers, brothers, and teachers. Though killing enemies in a righteous war is not sinful for a king who protects his people, these words do not bring me peace. The enmity that has arisen against women whose relatives have been slain, due to the actions of householders, I cannot dispel.” He lamented further, “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 moment, a sage spoke to the prince: “Now listen, O prince, to the supreme secret mantra. Recite it for seven nights, and you will see the beings who move in the sky. ‘Om, obeisance to the Blessed Lord Vāsudeva.’ With this mantra, the wise should worship the Lord using various offerings, knowing the proper place and time. Worship him 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, being self-controlled, peaceful, restrained in speech, and moderate in food, worship it.” The sage continued, “The Lord, praised in sublime verses, will manifest by his own inconceivable power and by his freely chosen deeds. Meditate on him as present in the heart. All the forms of service previously performed 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 heartfelt devotion, 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 received these instructions, the prince circumambulated the sage and bowed, then journeyed to the sacred Madhuvana, sanctified by the Lord’s footprints. When he had entered the forest of penance, the sage went into the inner chambers, was honored by the king, and, seated comfortably, spoke to him. Nārada asked, “O King, why do you sit long in thought, your face dried with sorrow? Is it that desire or duty, joined with wealth, is 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. Though helpless in the forest, may the wolves not harm that child—tired, lying down, hungry, his lotus-face withered. Alas, see 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. He has performed a deed difficult even for the guardians of the worlds, and soon, O King, he will attain for you a fame that will become immense.” Maitreya then narrated: Hearing these words from the divine sage, the lord of the earth, disregarding royal opulence, thought only of his son. Having been consecrated and purified, he spent the night in observance, serving the Supreme Person with a focused mind as instructed. At the end of every three nights, subsisting on wood-apple and jujube fruits, he spent a month worshipping Hari according to his capacity. In the second month, on every sixth day, the boy prepared food from fallen leaves, grass, and such, and worshipped the Lord. In the third month, on every ninth day, he subsisted on water alone and, absorbed in meditation, approached the Glorious Lord. In the fourth month, on every twelfth day, he lived on air, having conquered his breath, and sustained his meditation on the Lord. When the fifth month arrived, the prince, having mastered his breath, stood on one leg, meditating on the Absolute, unmoving like a pillar. Withdrawing his mind from everywhere and fixing it in his heart, the seat of the elements and senses, he meditated on the form of the Lord and saw nothing else. As he sustained the Supreme, the Lord of primordial matter and the great elements, the support of all, the three worlds began to tremble. When that royal boy stood on one foot, the earth, pressed by his big toe, bent wherever he stood, as an elephant’s platform tilts under its weight. As he meditated on the Self of the universe, closing the door of his senses with unwavering concentration, the worlds and their guardians, oppressed and breathless, sought refuge in Hari.