With the blessings of his father and the consent of Kṛṣṇa, the mighty king ascended the throne, ruling his inherited kingdom with righteousness, just as his father and grandfather before him had done. His mother, the mother of heroes, overwhelmed with joy and love, repeatedly anointed her son; from her breasts flowed nourishing milk, and from her eyes, auspicious tears of happiness. The people, witnessing this joyous reunion, spoke to the queen with gratitude: “By great fortune, your son, who removes our distress, has returned after so long and will now protect the entire earth.” They marveled at her devotion, saying, “O queen, surely you have worshipped the Lord, the remover of suffering, for those who meditate steadily upon Him can even conquer death, that most difficult of obstacles.” Thus cherished by the people along with his brothers, the delighted king mounted his elephant. Praised on all sides, he entered the city in triumph. At every entrance, splendid archways shaped like makaras stood tall; clusters of banana trunks and heaps of betel nuts were beautifully arranged, marking the city’s festivity. Each gateway was further adorned with pitchers of water, lamps flickering atop them, garlands of fresh mango leaves, and strings of pearls hanging gracefully. The city itself was a vision—ramparts and gateways gleamed, houses sparkled with golden ornaments, and the shining spires of mansions caught the sunlight. Courtyards, streets, and crossroads were spotlessly clean, sprinkled with sandalwood paste. Offerings of parched rice, unbroken grains, flowers, fruits, and rice were placed everywhere as signs of welcome and celebration. As the steadfast king made his way through the city, women from every household came forward at various places, bearing auspicious items—rice, whole grains, curd, water, sacred grass, flowers, and fruits—to greet him. Out of deep affection, these virtuous women offered their blessings as he entered his father’s palace, their voices raised in sweet, innocent songs. Within the palace, resplendent with clusters of great jewels, the king was cherished by his father and dwelled there as if he were a god in heaven. The beds were as white as milk foam and adorned with gold; the seats were of the finest quality, and all the furnishings were fashioned from gold. The walls of crystal and large emeralds glimmered with the light of jeweled lamps, their brilliance heightened by gems from women’s ornaments. Delightful gardens surrounded the palace, filled with wondrous celestial trees where pairs of birds cooed and intoxicated bees sang their melodies. Ponds bordered with steps of lapis lazuli brimmed with lotuses, water lilies, and kumuda flowers, and were frequented by swans, cranes, and chakravaka ducks. King Uttānapāda, the royal sage, beheld his son’s extraordinary glory with wonder and joy. Seeing that his son had grown, was beloved by the people, and approved by the ministers, the king entrusted Dhruva with the sovereignty of the earth. Recognizing his own advancing age, the wise king, detached from worldly affairs, set out for the forest, intent on pursuing the path of his soul. Meanwhile, in another time and place, Śaunaka inquired, “O best of the righteous, after Yudhiṣṭhira defeated those who coveted his kingdom and wealth, and once he and his brothers were secure, what did he do next? How did he proceed?” Sūta replied: “Hari, the creator of the world, restored the Kuru dynasty, which had been devastated by the fire of its own descendants. Having established Yudhiṣṭhira in his rightful kingdom, Kṛṣṇa was pleased at heart. Yudhiṣṭhira, having heard the wise words of Bhīṣma and Acyuta, and with his doubts dispelled by true knowledge, ruled the earth like Indra, supported by his unconquerable brothers. During his reign, the clouds rained as desired, the earth yielded all that was wished for, and cows joyfully drenched the villages with abundant milk. Rivers, oceans, mountains, forests, and all plants and herbs produced their fruits as wished. No ailments, diseases, or troubles—whether from fate, other beings, or oneself—ever disturbed the creatures during the reign of this king, whose enemy was never born. Hari, after spending several months in Hastināpura to gladden his friends and bring happiness to his beloved sister, at last took his leave. After embracing and bowing to his dear ones, he ascended 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—including the daughter of the King of Matsya—were bewildered and distraught, unable to bear the thought of separation from Kṛṣṇa, the wielder of the Śārṅga bow. Freed from bad company through association with the virtuous, a wise person, having once heard the delightful fame of the Lord, cannot abandon it. How could the sons of Pṛthā, whose minds were fixed on Him, bear the separation after having seen, touched, conversed, reclined, sat, and eaten with Him? Their hearts drawn irresistibly after Him, all followed Kṛṣṇa with unblinking eyes, bound by affection and wandering in their longing. The women of the family, restraining their streaming tears out of love for Devakī’s son, prayed silently, “Let no inauspiciousness occur as He leaves the house.” The air resounded with the music of mṛdaṅgas, conches, bherīs, vīṇās, paṇavas, gomukhas, dhundhuris, ānakas, bells, and dundubhis. The noble women of the Kuru family, eager to see Kṛṣṇa, climbed to the tops of their palaces and showered Him with flowers, their eyes shining with love and modesty. Guḍākeśa, Kṛṣṇa’s dearest friend, held a white parasol adorned with a string of pearls and a jeweled handle over Him. Uddhava and Sātyaki, with wondrous fans, fanned Madhupati as He shone on the road, showered with flowers. Here and there, the twice-born uttered blessings—some proper, some not—addressed to Him who is beyond all qualities, though He embodies them. Among the women of the city, conversations arose, captivating the hearts of all who listened, as their minds were absorbed in the glories of Kṛṣṇa. They spoke: “Indeed, this very person is the ancient Being who alone existed, undifferentiated, before all qualities, as the soul and Lord of the universe, with His own power dormant in the night of dissolution.