Narada, the divine sage, approached the grieving king and spoke words of reassurance: “O protector of the people, do not lament for your son. He is guarded by the gods themselves. Though you do not yet understand his greatness, his fame will soon spread throughout the world.” Narada continued, “Your son has accomplished a deed so difficult that even the guardians of the worlds would struggle with it. Because of this, O King, he will bring you a renown that will become immense.” Maitreya then describes how, upon hearing Narada’s words, the lord of the earth—disregarding his royal opulence and comforts—thought only of his son. There, having undergone consecration and purification, the prince spent the night in observance, focused and resolute, serving the Supreme Person just as he had been instructed. For a month, at the end of every three nights, subsisting only on wood-apple and jujube fruits, he worshipped Hari according to his capacity. In the second month, on every sixth day, the boy prepared food from fallen leaves, grass, and other humble offerings, continuing his worship of the Lord. During the third month, on every ninth day, he sustained himself on water alone, his mind absorbed in meditation, approaching the Glorious Lord with ever-increasing devotion. By the fourth month, on every twelfth day, he lived only on air, having conquered his breath and sustaining his meditation on the Lord. When the fifth month arrived, the prince, having fully mastered his breath, stood on one leg, meditating on the Absolute, unmoving like a pillar. Withdrawing his mind from all distractions, he fixed it in his heart—the seat of the elements and senses—and meditated solely on the form of the Lord, seeing 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 the royal boy stood on one foot, the earth, pressed by his big toe, bent wherever he stood, like an elephant’s platform tilting under its weight. Immersed in meditation on the Self of the universe, closing the doors of his senses with unwavering concentration, the worlds and their guardians, oppressed and breathless, sought refuge in Hari. The gods pleaded, “O Lord, we have never witnessed such restraint of life-breath in any being, moving or unmoving, whose abode is You. Please grant us release from this distress; we have come to You, the ultimate refuge.” The Blessed Lord replied, “Do not fear. I will cause the boy to desist from this arduous austerity. Return to your own realms. It was because of his union with Me that your breath was restrained, O sons of Uttānapāda.” Sūta then narrates that, out of concern for his subjects and desiring to understand righteousness fully, the king went to the place where Devavrata lay. At that time, all his brothers, with horses adorned in gold, followed in chariots, accompanied by the sages Vyāsa, Dhaumya, and others. The Blessed Lord Krishna, too, together with Dhanañjaya, rode in a chariot; among them, the king shone like Kubera among the Yakṣas. Upon seeing Bhīṣma fallen on the ground, like a god fallen from heaven, the Pāṇḍavas, along with their followers and Krishna, the wielder of the discus, bowed to him. There, all the great sages among the Brahmanas, the foremost among the divine sages, and royal sages assembled to see the chief of the Bharatas. Among them were Parvata, Narada, Dhaumya, the venerable Badarayana, Brihadasva, Bharadvaja with his disciples, and the son of Renuka. Vasishtha, Indrapramada, Trita, Gritsamada, Asita, Kakshivan, Gautama, Atri, Kaushika, and Sudarshana were also present. Other pure-hearted sages, such as Brahmarata and others, arrived with their disciples—Kashyapa, Angiras, and the rest. Bhīṣma, perceiving those assembled, most fortunate ones, honored them, knowing righteousness and the proper distinctions of place and time. He also worshipped Krishna, who knew His own majesty, seated there as Lord of the universe, present in the heart, having assumed a form through His own maya. Then Bhīṣma addressed the sons of Pandu, who were seated with humility and affection, their eyes blinded by tears of deep attachment. He lamented, “Alas, how grievous, how unjust it is that you, O sons of Dharma, who are afflicted, devoted to the Brahmanas, to righteousness, and to Acyuta, are not fit to suffer or to live in distress. With the great warrior Pandu gone, Kunti, left with young children and as a widow, has endured many hardships for your sake, time and again, like one with a child.” Bhīṣma reflected, “I consider all that is unpleasant for you to be caused by time; the world, with its rulers, is under its sway, just as clouds are driven by the wind. Where the son of Dharma is king, Bhima wields the mace, Krishna holds the Gandiva bow, and Krishna is your friend—how can there be adversity? O King, no one ever knows His intention; even those endowed with inquiry are bewildered by it, as are the wise. Therefore, O best of the Bharatas, understand this to be the arrangement of destiny; being thus ordained, O protectorless one, you, as the lord, protect the people.” He continued, “This indeed is Bhagavan Himself, the original Narayana, who, concealing Himself among the Vrishnis, moves about, bewildering the world by His maya. His most secret power is known only by Bhagavan Shiva, the divine sage Narada, and Bhagavan Kapila, O King. He whom you consider your maternal cousin, dear friend, best well-wisher, whom you made your minister, messenger, and charioteer out of affection—for the one who is the soul of all, who sees all equally, who is nondual and free from ego, there is never any fault in the differences He causes in people’s minds.” Bhīṣma pointed out, “Yet, see, O King, His compassion for those with exclusive devotion: as I am giving up my life, Krishna Himself has come before me. The yogi who, with devotion, fixes his mind upon Him and utters His name with his voice, is freed from desires and actions when he leaves his body. May that Lord of gods, Bhagavan, wait until I relinquish this body; He, with a smiling face, reddish eyes, radiant lotus-like countenance, and four arms, stands before me as the path of my meditation.” Sūta concludes, “Yudhiṣṭhira, having heard this, questioned the one lying upon the bed of arrows about various duties, as the sages listened attentively.