As Bhīṣma lay upon his bed of arrows, his final moments approaching, he fixed his gaze upon the Lord of the gods—Bhagavān Himself—who stood before him as the very path of his meditation. The Lord’s countenance was radiant like a lotus, His eyes tinged with red, His smile gentle, and His four arms resplendent, offering a vision of divine beauty and grace. At this sacred scene, Sūta recounted, King Yudhiṣṭhira, moved by the gravity of the moment, approached Bhīṣma and began to question him about the duties of life. The great sages gathered around, listening with rapt attention as the king sought wisdom from the revered elder. Yudhiṣṭhira asked Bhīṣma about the righteous duties prescribed for people according to their inherent nature, social class, and stage of life. He inquired further about the characteristics of both attachment and detachment as taught in the scriptures. Eager to understand the full breadth of dharma, Yudhiṣṭhira requested guidance—both in summary and in detail—on the duties of charity, kingship, liberation, the conduct of women, and devotion to God, including their various divisions and yogic aspects. Bhīṣma, wise and deeply learned, spoke to Yudhiṣṭhira about the four great aims of human life: dharma (righteousness), artha (wealth), kāma (desire), and mokṣa (liberation). He explained their means and nuances, illustrating his teachings with stories and histories from the past. As Bhīṣma expounded on these profound truths, the auspicious time for his departure arrived—the very moment sought by yogis who wish to leave their bodies at will, when the sun begins its northern course. Sensing this, Bhīṣma gradually withdrew his speech, which had flowed like a thousand streams, and fixed his mind, now free from all worldly attachments, upon the Primeval Person—Kṛṣṇa—who stood before him in shining yellow garments, four-armed, with unblinking eyes. With unwavering concentration, all inauspiciousness vanished from Bhīṣma’s heart. The fatigue of battle melted away simply by beholding the Lord. As all the activities of his senses ceased, Bhīṣma offered heartfelt praise to Janārdana, the creator, as he prepared to leave his mortal frame. Bhīṣma spoke: “Now my mind, no longer tormented by thirst, is established in the Lord—the foremost of the Sātvatas, the all-pervading one, who, though ever blissful in Himself, 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 in garments shining like sunlight, His form encircled by curling locks, His lotus face the dear friend of Arjuna. “In battle, I saw His face adorned with sweat from exertion, His hair dusted by the smoke of horses, His armor gleaming, His skin pierced by my sharp arrows. May Kṛṣṇa, my true self, be present for me. I remember how, hearing the words of His friend in the midst of battle, He placed the chariot between the two armies; standing as protector—even of the enemy soldiers—He took away their strength. May my love be ever fixed on Pārtha’s friend. “When Arjuna, seeing his kin arrayed against him, faltered and turned away from battle, it was Kṛṣṇa who dispelled his confusion with knowledge of the Self. May I have supreme devotion to His lotus feet. “To fulfill my vow, He abandoned His own, leaping from the chariot, His upper garment falling, whip in hand, rushing forward like Hari advancing against an elephant. Though pierced by sharp arrows, my bow shattered, my body drenched in blood, the Lord Mukunda charged upon me, the aggressor, to slay me—may He be my refuge. “May my devotion at the time of death be fixed upon that Lord, whose beauty shines as He stands on Arjuna’s chariot, holding the reins and whip—He, whom those slain here, upon seeing, attained their true form. “I remember the cowherd women, their graceful movements and charming laughter, their sidelong glances full of love and playful anger. Absorbed in Him, they imitated His acts in joyous madness, lost in His very nature. “In the royal assembly at Yudhiṣṭhira’s Rājasūya sacrifice, surrounded by sages and kings, it was He alone who was worthy of worship and revealed Himself to me. Now, I have realized that unborn One, present in the hearts of all beings, conceived differently by each according to their mind—just as the one sun appears manifold in many reflections. My delusion of difference is dispelled.” As Bhīṣma thus fixed his mind, speech, and sight on Lord Kṛṣṇa, absorbing his very self in the Supreme Self, he drew in his breath and became utterly still. All those present recognized that Bhīṣma was merging into the indivisible Brahman, and a deep silence fell, as if birds had quieted at the close of day. At that moment, celestial and earthly drums resounded. The virtuous praised Bhīṣma, and showers of flowers rained from the sky upon the king. After Bhīṣma’s passing, Yudhiṣṭhira, son of Bhārgava, performed all the proper funeral rites, though for a time he remained deeply sorrowful. The sages, delighted, praised Kṛṣṇa with secret names. With hearts full of devotion, they returned to their hermitages. Yudhiṣṭhira, accompanied by Kṛṣṇa, made his way to Gajāhvaya, where he comforted his father Dhṛtarāṣṭra and the ascetic Gāndhārī. With his father’s approval and Kṛṣṇa’s consent, the mighty king Yudhiṣṭhira ruled the kingdom righteously, as inherited from his father and grandfather. His mother, Kuntī, overjoyed, blessed him again and again; from her breasts flowed milk and from her eyes, auspicious tears. The people spoke to the queen: “By good fortune, your son, the remover of distress, has returned after a long absence and will protect the circle of the earth.” They praised her, saying, “Surely, O queen, you have worshipped the Lord, the remover of the distressed, for those who meditate on Him with steady mind even conquer death, so hard to overcome.” Cherished by the people and his brothers, the joyful king mounted the royal elephant and, praised by all, entered the city. At every entrance, splendid makara-archways, clusters of banana trunks, and heaps of betel nuts were beautifully arranged. Each gateway was adorned with pitchers of water with lamps, garlands of young mango leaves, and strings of pearls hanging down. The entire city was decorated with ramparts, gateways, and houses adorned with golden ornaments and shining spires of mansions. The courtyards, streets, and crossroads were clean and sprinkled with sandal paste, and offerings of parched rice, unbroken grains, flowers, fruits, and rice were everywhere. As the steadfast king passed along the road, the women of the city brought auspicious items—rice, unbroken grains, curd, water, sacred grass, flowers, and fruits. Out of affection, they offered blessings as he entered his father’s palace, their sweet, childish songs filling the air. Within that splendid palace, adorned with clusters of great jewels, Yudhiṣṭhira was cherished exceedingly by his father and dwelled there like a god in heaven. The beds were white as milk foam, adorned with gold; the seats were precious, and all the furnishings were made of gold. On crystal walls and great emeralds, jeweled lamps shone, adorned with gems from women’s ornaments. There were delightful gardens with wondrous celestial trees, filled with cooing pairs of birds and intoxicated bees singing their songs, completing the atmosphere of peace and joy in the king’s return.