As the great Bhīṣma lay on his bed of arrows, expounding on the principles of dharma to the assembled kings and sages, the long-awaited, auspicious moment arrived—the very time sought by yogis who choose the moment of their passing, when the sun journeys northward. Sensing that his final hour had come, Bhīṣma gently withdrew his speech, which had flowed like a thousand streams, and fixed his mind, now utterly free of all worldly attachments, upon the Primeval Person. Before him stood Kṛṣṇa Himself, resplendent in yellow garments, four-armed, unblinking, shining with divine brilliance. With unwavering concentration, Bhīṣma’s mind grew pure; all inauspiciousness and the exhaustion of battle melted away at the sight of the Lord. His senses stilled, he offered heartfelt praise to Janārdana, the creator, as he prepared to depart from this world. Bhīṣma spoke: “Now my mind, free from all thirst, is established in that Lord, the foremost of the Sātvatas, the all-pervading one, who, having attained His own bliss, sometimes enters into the world of nature, from which the cycle 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 the rays of the sun, with curling locks encircling His form, and a lotus face that is the dearest friend of Arjuna. “In battle, I saw Him—His face adorned with sweat from exertion, His hair dusted by the smoke of horses, His armor gleaming as my sharp arrows pierced His skin. May that Kṛṣṇa, my true self, be present for me. I remember how, hearing Arjuna’s words in the midst of battle, He placed the chariot between the two armies, standing there to protect even the lives of the enemy soldiers. May my love always rest upon Pārtha’s friend, who took away the strength of our foes. “When Arjuna, seeing his own kinsmen across the field, faltered out of sorrow and confusion, Kṛṣṇa dispelled his doubts with the knowledge of the Self. May I have supreme devotion to His lotus feet. And when I forced Him to break His own vow to fulfill mine, He leapt from the chariot, His upper garment falling, whip in hand, rushing toward me like Hari advancing to slay an elephant. Though I pierced Him with sharp arrows, shattered His bow, and drenched His body in blood, He rushed upon me—may that Lord Mukunda be my refuge. “At the time of my death, may my devotion be fixed upon that Lord, whose beauty was revealed as He stood on Arjuna’s chariot, holding reins and whip, whom even those slain in battle, upon seeing, attained their true form. The cowherd women of Vraja, their movements graceful, laughter charming, and glances full of love and feigned anger, imitated His playful acts in madness and absorption, for they were immersed in His very 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 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.” Having thus fixed his mind, speech, and sight upon Lord Kṛṣṇa, Bhīṣma absorbed his very self in the Supreme Self, drawing in his breath until he became utterly still. All present recognized that Bhīṣma was merging into the indivisible Brahman, and a deep silence fell, like birds quieting at dusk. In that sacred moment, drums resounded, played by gods and humans alike; the virtuous praised Bhīṣma, and showers of flowers rained down from the sky upon the king. After Bhīṣma’s passing, Yudhiṣṭhira, the son of Bhārgava, performed all the proper rites for the departed, yet for a time, he remained heavy with sorrow. The sages, delighted in spirit, praised Kṛṣṇa with secret names, and, their hearts devoted to Him, returned to their hermitages. Then Yudhiṣṭhira, accompanied by Kṛṣṇa, went to Gajāhvaya and comforted his father and the ascetic Gāndhārī. With his father’s blessing and Kṛṣṇa’s consent, the mighty king Yudhiṣṭhira ruled the kingdom righteously, as inherited from his father and grandfather. At this time, the mother of heroes, overjoyed, anointed her son again and again, milk flowing from her breasts and auspicious tears from her eyes. The people gathered and said to the queen, “By good fortune, your son, the remover of distress, has returned after long absence and will protect the circle of the earth. Surely, O queen, you have worshipped the Lord, the reliever of distress, for those who meditate upon Him with steady mind conquer even death, which is so hard to overcome.” Cherished by the people and his brothers, the joyful king ascended the elephant, and, praised by all, entered the city. At every entrance were splendid makara-archways, clusters of banana trunks, and heaps of betel nuts, all beautifully arranged. Each gateway was adorned with pitchers of water, lamps, garlands of young mango leaves, and strings of pearls. The city itself was decorated on all sides with ramparts, gateways, and houses adorned with golden ornaments, and with the 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 city’s women brought auspicious items—rice, unbroken grains, curd, water, sacred grass, flowers, and fruits. Out of affection, these virtuous women offered their blessings as he entered his father’s palace, their sweet, childish songs filling the air. In that splendid palace, adorned with clusters of great jewels, the king was cherished exceedingly by his father and dwelled there like a god in heaven. The beds were white as milk foam, with golden ornaments; the seats were most precious, and all the furnishings were made of gold. Crystal walls and great emeralds supported jeweled lamps, adorned with gems from women’s ornaments. There were delightful gardens with wondrous celestial trees, filled with the cooing of birds and the humming of intoxicated bees. Ponds with steps of lapis lazuli brimmed with lotuses, water lilies, and kumuda flowers, frequented by swans, cranes, and chakravaka ducks. King Uttānapāda, the royal sage, seeing and hearing of his son’s extraordinary glory, was filled with the highest wonder. Observing that his son was grown, beloved by the people, and approved by the ministers, the king made Dhruva the lord of the earth. Realizing his own old age, the lord of men, detached, set out for the forest, contemplating the path of his soul. At this point, Śaunaka, the wise sage, inquired: “O best of the righteous, after Yudhiṣṭhira had slain the enemies who coveted his kingdom and wealth, and his meals were secured with his brothers, what did he do next? How did he proceed?