Perceiving the gathering of illustrious sages and noble souls who had assembled around him, Bhīṣma, the foremost among the Vasus and master of dharma, recognized their virtue and the sanctity of the moment and place. With due reverence, he honored each of them, his heart filled with gratitude for their presence at his final hour. Among those present was Kṛṣṇa Himself, seated with serene majesty, the Lord of the universe who dwells within all hearts and had taken a visible form through His own divine power. Bhīṣma, aware of Kṛṣṇa’s supreme position, offered Him special worship, acknowledging Him as the true master of all worlds. Turning his gaze to the sons of Pāṇḍu, who sat before him in humility and affection, their eyes brimming with tears of deep love and sorrow, Bhīṣma addressed them with compassion. “Alas,” he said, “how grievous and unjust it is that you, O sons of Dharma, so devoted to the Brāhmaṇas, to righteousness, and to Acyuta, should be afflicted and forced to endure distress. You are not deserving of such suffering. “After the great warrior Pāṇḍu departed, your mother Kuntī, left as a widow with young children, endured countless hardships for your sake, again and again, like a mother striving for her child’s welfare. Yet, all these misfortunes that have befallen you, I see as the workings of time itself. The world and its rulers are all subject to time, just as clouds are driven by the wind. “How can adversity persist where Yudhiṣṭhira, the son of Dharma, reigns as king, where Bhīma wields his mighty mace, where Arjuna holds the Gandiva bow, and where Kṛṣṇa is your friend? Yet, who can know the intentions of the Lord? Even the wise are bewildered by His mysterious ways. “Therefore, O best of the Bharatas, understand that all this is the arrangement of destiny. Since it is so ordained, and you now stand as protectorless, it is your duty, as king, to protect the people. “Behold, this is truly Bhagavān Himself, the original Nārāyaṇa, who, concealing His true nature among the Vrishnis, moves about the world, bewildering all by His divine power. His most secret potency is known only to Bhagavān Śiva, the sage Nārada, and Bhagavān Kapila. “The one whom you consider your cousin, your dearest friend, your well-wisher, whom you have made your minister, messenger, and charioteer out of love—He is none other than the soul of all, who sees all equally, who is beyond duality and ego. For Him, there is never any fault in the differences He brings about in people’s minds. “Yet, O King, see His compassion for those with exclusive devotion! As I prepare to give up my life, Kṛṣṇa Himself has come before me. The yogi who, with devotion, fixes his mind upon Him and utters His name at the time of death is freed from all desires and actions. “May that Lord of gods, Bhagavān, wait until I relinquish this body. With His smiling face, reddish eyes, radiant lotus-like countenance, and four arms, He stands before me as the very path of my meditation.” As Bhīṣma spoke thus, Yudhiṣṭhira listened intently and then questioned the great sage, who lay upon his bed of arrows, about the various duties of life. The sages gathered there listened with rapt attention as Yudhiṣṭhira asked about the duties appropriate to one’s nature, social class, and stage of life, as well as the qualities of attachment and detachment described in the scriptures. He inquired, in both summary and detail, about charity, kingship, liberation, the duties of women, devotion to God, and the divisions and yogic aspects of these paths. Bhīṣma, wise and knowledgeable in truth, explained the aims of dharma, wealth, desire, and liberation, along with their means, sharing the wisdom found in stories and histories. As he expounded on these teachings, the auspicious time arrived—the northern course, the time sought by yogis who wish to leave their bodies at will. Sensing the moment, Bhīṣma withdrew his speech, which had flowed like a thousand streams, and fixed his mind, free from all attachments, upon the Primeval Person—upon Kṛṣṇa, who stood before him in yellow garments, four-armed, with unblinking eyes. With pure concentration, all inauspiciousness destroyed and the fatigue of battle vanished just by beholding Him, Bhīṣma, with all his senses stilled, praised Janārdana, the creator, as he prepared to depart. He said, “Now my mind, freed from all thirst, is established in the Lord, foremost among the Sātvatas, the all-pervading one, who, having attained His own bliss, sometimes enters the world of nature, from which the flow of birth arises. May my pure love be fixed upon Him, the delight of the three worlds, dark as a tamāla tree, adorned with garments shining like the rays of the sun, with curling locks encircling His form, and whose lotus face is the friend of Arjuna. “In battle, His face was adorned with sweat from exertion, His hair dusted by the smoke of horses, His armor gleaming as His skin was pierced by my sharp arrows—may Kṛṣṇa, my true self, be present for me. “When, in the midst of battle, He heard the words of His friend, He placed the chariot between the two armies; as He stood there, protecting the lives even of the enemy soldiers, may my love be fixed on Pārtha’s friend, who took away their strength. “When Arjuna, seeing his kin on the opposing side, faltered and turned away from battle out of a sense of guilt, Kṛṣṇa dispelled his confusion with knowledge of the Self—may I have supreme devotion to His lotus feet. “Abandoning His own vow to fulfill mine, He leapt from the chariot, His upper garment falling, and rushed forward, whip in hand, like Hari advancing to slay an elephant. Though pierced by sharp arrows, my bow shattered, my body drenched in blood, the aggressor rushed upon me—may that Lord Mukunda be my refuge. “May my devotion, at the time of death, be fixed upon that Lord, whose beauty is seen as He stands on Arjuna’s chariot, holding the reins and whip, and whom those slain upon the battlefield, upon seeing Him, attained their true form. “The cowherd women, with graceful movements, charming laughter, and sidelong glances filled with love and feigned anger, imitated His playful acts in a state of divine madness, absorbed entirely in His nature. “In the royal assembly at Yudhiṣṭhira’s Rājasūya sacrifice, surrounded by sages and kings, He alone was worthy of worship and became visible to my eyes—He who reveals His true self to me. “Now, I have realized that unborn One, present in the hearts of all embodied beings, who is conceived differently by each according to their mind, just as the one sun appears manifold in many reflections. My delusion of difference has been dispelled.” Sūta continued: Thus, with his mind, speech, and sight fixed upon Lord Kṛṣṇa, and his self absorbed in the Supreme Self, Bhīṣma drew in his breath and became still. Recognizing that Bhīṣma was merging into the indivisible Brahman, all present fell silent, like birds at the end of the day. At that moment, drums resounded, played by gods and humans alike. The virtuous praised Bhīṣma, and showers of flowers fell from the heavens upon the king. After Bhīṣma’s passing, Yudhiṣṭhira, guided by the sage Bhārgava, performed all the proper funeral rites, though for a time he remained deeply sorrowful. The delighted sages praised Kṛṣṇa with secret names, and then, their hearts devoted to Him, returned to their own hermitages. Thereafter, Yudhiṣṭhira, accompanied by Kṛṣṇa, went to Gajāhvaya and comforted his father and the ascetic Gāndhārī, offering solace in their time of grief.