Sūta continued his narration, describing the final moments of the great Bhīṣma. Fixing his mind, words, and sight upon Lord Kṛṣṇa, Bhīṣma absorbed his very self into the Supreme Self. Drawing in his last breath, he became utterly still, merging into the indivisible Brahman. Those gathered around him—kings, sages, and relatives—recognized this sacred passing. A profound silence fell over them, as if all the world’s birds had stilled their voices at the close of day. In that solemn moment, the heavens and the earth responded. Drums thundered, played by gods and humans alike. The virtuous praised Bhīṣma’s glorious life, and from the sky, showers of fragrant flowers rained down, honoring the king’s departure. After Bhīṣma’s passing, Yudhiṣṭhira, the son of Bhārgava, performed all the proper rites for his ancestor. Yet, despite fulfilling his duty, he remained deeply sorrowful for some time, weighed down by grief. The assembled sages, delighted and full of devotion, praised Kṛṣṇa with secret names known only to the wise. Their hearts absorbed in Him, they eventually returned to their own hermitages, leaving the royal family to their mourning. Yudhiṣṭhira, accompanied by Kṛṣṇa, journeyed to Gajāhvaya to comfort his father and the ascetic Gāndhārī, who were both stricken with sorrow. With his father’s approval and Kṛṣṇa’s blessing, the mighty king assumed the rule of the kingdom, inherited from his father and grandfather, and governed righteously. The mother of heroes was overcome with emotion. From her breasts flowed milk, and from her eyes, auspicious tears, as she repeatedly anointed her son, restored to her after so much sorrow. The people rejoiced and addressed the queen: “By great fortune, your son—the remover of distress—has returned after long absence and will now protect the circle of the earth.” They continued, “Surely, O queen, you have worshipped the Lord, the remover of distress. For those who meditate upon Him with steady mind, even death, which is so difficult to conquer, is overcome.” Cherished by the people along with his brothers, the joyful king mounted a great elephant. Praised by all, he entered the city in triumph. At every entrance to the city, splendid makara-shaped archways stood, clusters of banana trunks and heaps of betel nuts beautifully arranged. Each gateway was adorned with pitchers of water, lamps, garlands of young mango leaves, and strings of pearls hanging down. The city itself was decorated on all sides with ramparts, gateways, and houses adorned with golden ornaments and the shining spires of lofty mansions. The courtyards, streets, and crossroads were swept clean and sprinkled with sandal paste. Everywhere, offerings of parched rice, unbroken grains, flowers, fruits, and rice were laid out. As the steadfast king passed along the road, the women of the city came forth at various places, bringing auspicious items—rice, unbroken grains, curd, water, sacred grass, flowers, and fruits—to greet him. Out of affection, these virtuous women offered their 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, the king was cherished exceedingly by his father and dwelled there like a god in heaven. The beds were white as milk foam, decorated with golden ornaments; the seats were most precious, and all furnishings were made of gold. Crystal walls and great emeralds held jeweled lamps, their light adorned with gems from women’s ornaments. Delightful gardens surrounded the palace, filled with wondrous celestial trees, cooing pairs of birds, and intoxicated bees singing. There were ponds with steps of lapis lazuli, filled with lotuses, water lilies, and kumuda flowers, where swans, cranes, and chakravaka ducks played. When King Uttānapāda, the royal sage, saw and heard of his son’s extraordinary glory, he was filled with the highest wonder. Seeing Dhruva grown, beloved by the people, and approved by the ministers, Uttānapāda made him lord of the earth. Realizing his own old age, the king, detached from worldly affairs, set out for the forest, contemplating the path of his soul. At this point, Śaunaka, the sage, questioned Sūta: “O best of the righteous, after Yudhiṣṭhira vanquished his enemies and secured his kingdom and daily needs with his brothers, what did he do next? How did he proceed?” Sūta replied: “Hari, the creator of the world, restored the Kuru dynasty, which had been destroyed by the fire of its own descendants. Having established Yudhiṣṭhira in his rightful kingdom, He 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 the unconquered, like Indra himself, with his brothers following. “During his reign, the clouds rained as desired, the earth yielded all that was wished for, and the cows joyfully drenched the villages with abundant milk. 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 any creature during the reign of that king whose enemy was never born. “After spending a few months in Hastināpura to bring joy to his friends and especially to please his beloved sister, Hari prepared to depart. Taking leave and receiving permission, He embraced and bowed to them all, ascending His chariot, honored and embraced by many. “Present at His departure were Subhadrā, Draupadī, Kuntī, the daughter of Virāṭa, Gāndhārī, Dhṛtarāṣṭra, Yuyutsu, Kripa, and the twins Nakula and Sahadeva. 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 the Śārṅga bow. “Freed from bad company by association with the virtuous, a wise person cannot abandon it, having once heard the delightful fame of Him who is eternally praised. How could the sons of Pṛthā, whose minds were fixed on Him, endure such separation—after seeing, touching, conversing, lying down, sitting, and eating with Him? “All of them, their hearts rushing after Him, followed Him with unblinking eyes, bound by affection, wandering here and there. The women of the family restrained their streaming tears, longing for Devakī’s son, thinking, ‘Let no inauspiciousness occur as He leaves the house.’ “As He departed, the city resounded with mṛdaṅgas, conches, bherīs, vīṇās, paṇavas, gomukhas, dhundhuris, ānakas, bells, and dundubhis, filling the air with auspicious music.