As Bhīṣma lay on his bed of arrows, nearing the end of his life, he fixed his heart and mind upon Lord Kṛṣṇa, praying that his devotion would remain unwavering at the moment of death. He longed to behold the Lord as he had seen Him on Arjuna’s chariot—radiant in beauty, holding the reins and whip, an enchanting vision that had granted those slain on the battlefield their true, eternal forms. Bhīṣma’s mind wandered to the cowherd women of Vraja, whose graceful movements, charming laughter, and sidelong glances—sometimes playful, sometimes feigning anger—reflected their deep absorption in Kṛṣṇa. In their love-madness, they imitated His playful acts, their hearts merged with His very essence. He remembered the royal assembly at Yudhiṣṭhira’s Rājasūya sacrifice, where, surrounded by sages and kings, Kṛṣṇa alone was recognized as the supreme object of worship and made Himself visible to Bhīṣma’s eyes, revealing His true form. With clarity, Bhīṣma realized the presence of that unborn Lord, dwelling in the hearts of all beings. Though perceived differently by each, just as the one sun appears manifold in many reflections, the Lord alone is the ultimate reality. All sense of difference faded from Bhīṣma’s mind. With his mind, speech, and sight fixed upon Kṛṣṇa, Bhīṣma absorbed his very self into the Supreme Self. Drawing in his breath, he became utterly still. All those present recognized that Bhīṣma was merging into the indivisible Brahman. Silence enveloped them, like the hush that falls among birds at sunset. In that sacred moment, the heavens and the earth resounded with the beat of drums played by gods and humans. 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 rites due to the departed. Yet, for a time, he remained weighed down by sorrow. The assembled sages, delighted, praised Kṛṣṇa with secret names. With hearts devoted to Him, they returned to their hermitages. Yudhiṣṭhira, accompanied by Kṛṣṇa, went to Gajāhvaya to comfort his father and the ascetic Gāndhārī. With his father’s blessing and Kṛṣṇa’s consent, the mighty king ruled the kingdom in righteousness, as inherited from his father and grandfather. His mother, the mother of heroes, was overcome with joy—milk flowed from her breasts and auspicious tears from her eyes as she embraced her son again and again. The people rejoiced with the queen, saying, “By great good fortune, your son, the remover of distress, has returned after long absence and will protect the circle of the earth.” They praised her, saying, “Surely, O queen, you have worshipped the Lord, the destroyer of distress, for those who meditate upon Him with steady mind conquer even death, which is so hard to overcome.” Cherished by the people, Yudhiṣṭhira and his brothers mounted the royal elephant. Praised by all, the joyful king 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 topped with lamps, garlands of young mango leaves, and strings of pearls that hung down in shining rows. The city itself was resplendent—ramparts, gateways, and houses gleamed with golden ornaments, and the mansions’ spires shone in the sunlight. The courtyards, streets, and crossroads were immaculately clean, sprinkled with sandal paste, and offerings of parched rice, unbroken grains, flowers, fruits, and rice were laid everywhere. As the steadfast king passed through the streets, women at various places brought auspicious offerings—rice, unbroken grains, curd, water, sacred grass, flowers, and fruits. Out of affection, these virtuous women blessed him as he entered his father’s palace, their sweet, childlike songs filling the air. Within that splendid palace, adorned with clusters of great jewels, Yudhiṣṭhira was cherished by his father and dwelled as if in heaven. The beds were white as milk foam, trimmed with gold; the seats were of the finest quality, and all the furnishings were golden. Crystal walls and great emeralds supported jeweled lamps, which blazed with gems from women’s ornaments. Delightful gardens surrounded the palace, filled with wondrous, celestial trees, where pairs of birds cooed and intoxicated bees sang. There were ponds with steps of lapis lazuli, blooming with lotuses, water lilies, and kumuda flowers, frequented by swans, cranes, and chakravaka ducks. King Uttānapāda, the royal sage, upon hearing and seeing his son’s extraordinary glory, was filled with the highest wonder. Seeing Dhruva grown, beloved by the people, and approved by the ministers, the king made him lord of the earth. Recognizing his own old age, the king, detached, set out for the forest, contemplating the path of his soul. At this point, Śaunaka spoke, “O best of the righteous, after Yudhiṣṭhira had vanquished the enemies who coveted his kingdom and wealth, and with his brothers’ needs secured, what did he do next? How did he proceed?” Sūta replied, “Hari, the creator of the world, restored the Kuru dynasty, which had been consumed by the fire of its own descendants. Having established Yudhiṣṭhira in his rightful kingdom, the Lord was pleased at heart. Having heard the wise words of Bhīṣma and Acyuta, and with his doubts dispelled by true knowledge, Yudhiṣṭhira ruled the earth, supported by his unconquered brothers, like Indra surrounded by the gods. Under his just rule, the clouds rained as desired, the earth yielded all that was wished for, and the cows joyfully drenched the villages with abundant milk. The rivers, oceans, mountains, forests, and all the herbs and plants produced their fruits as desired. No ailments, diseases, or troubles—whether from fate, other beings, or oneself—ever afflicted the creatures during the reign of this king whose enemy was never born. Hari, the Lord, remained for some months in Hastināpura, bringing joy to his friends and pleasing his beloved sister. When the time came, after taking leave and being permitted, he ascended his chariot, embracing and honoring his dear ones. Subhadrā, Draupadī, Kuntī, the daughter of Virāṭa, Gāndhārī, Dhṛtarāṣṭra, Yuyutsu, Kripa, and the twins Nakula and Sahadeva were all present. Vṛkodara, Dhaumya, and the women—such as the daughter of the King of Matsya—were bewildered and distraught, unable to bear separation from the wielder of Śārṅga. For one who has been freed from bad company by association with the virtuous, it is impossible to abandon such company, having once heard the delightful fame of Him who is praised by all.