As the people of the kingdom showered their affection upon him and his brothers, the king—his heart brimming with joy—mounted a majestic elephant. Amidst the praises of the assembled crowds, he entered the city, welcomed as a hero returned. At every entrance, splendid archways shaped like makaras stood tall, flanked by clusters of banana trunks and heaps of betel nuts, all arranged with exquisite care to honor the occasion. Each gateway was further adorned with auspicious pitchers of water topped with glowing lamps, garlands of tender mango leaves, and strings of pearls that gently swayed in the breeze. The city itself was a vision of grandeur, its defenses, gates, and countless homes gleaming with golden ornaments, while the spires of towering mansions sparkled in the sunlight. The courtyards, streets, and crossroads had been swept clean and sprinkled with fragrant sandalwood paste. Everywhere, offerings of parched rice, whole grains, flowers, fruits, and mounds of rice were laid out, filling the air with a sense of sacred festivity. As the steadfast king made his way through the city, the women of the town appeared at various spots, bearing trays of auspicious items—rice, unbroken grains, curd, water, sacred grass, flowers, and fruits—to bless his progress. Out of deep affection, these virtuous women offered their heartfelt blessings as the king entered his father’s palace, their sweet, childlike songs filling the air with joy. Inside that resplendent palace, adorned with clusters of dazzling jewels, the king was cherished beyond measure by his father and dwelled there like a god among the celestials. Within the palace, the beds gleamed white as milk foam, decorated with golden ornaments. The seats were of the rarest value, and all the furnishings were fashioned from gold. The walls of crystal and great emeralds shimmered, illuminated by jeweled lamps set with gems taken from the ornaments of the palace’s women. Beyond the palace walls, delightful gardens flourished, filled with wondrous trees of celestial origin. Pairs of birds cooed melodiously among the branches, while intoxicated bees hummed their songs. There were ponds lined with steps of lapis lazuli, their waters brimming with lotuses, water lilies, and kumuda flowers. Swans, cranes, and chakravaka ducks glided serenely across the surface. King Uttānapāda, the royal sage, was overwhelmed with wonder upon witnessing the extraordinary glory of his son. Seeing him grown, beloved by the people, and approved by the ministers, the king entrusted Dhruva with the rule of the earth. Recognizing the time of his own old age, the lord of men, now detached, departed for the forest, contemplating the path of his soul. At this point, Śaunaka, the wise sage, inquired: “O best among the righteous, after Yudhiṣṭhira had defeated those who coveted his kingdom and wealth, and his brothers’ meals were 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 devastated by the fire of its own descendants. Having established Yudhiṣṭhira firmly in his kingdom, the Lord was pleased at heart. Having heard the wise counsel of Bhīṣma and Acyuta, and with his doubts dispelled by true knowledge, Yudhiṣṭhira ruled the earth, supported by his unconquered brothers, just as Indra rules with the help of the Maruts. Under his rule, the clouds rained as the people desired, the earth yielded all that was wished for, and the cows joyfully filled the villages with abundant milk. The rivers, oceans, mountains, forests, and all the plants and herbs 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 had never been born. Hari, the Supreme Person, stayed for some months in Hastināpura, bringing joy to his friends and especially to please his beloved sister. When the time came to depart, having taken leave and received permission, He embraced and bowed to His dear ones, ascending His chariot, honored and embraced by many. Subhadrā, Draupadī, Kuntī, the daughter of Virāṭa, Gāndhārī, Dhṛtarāṣṭra, Yuyutsu, Kripa, and the twins Nakula and Sahadeva were all present. Vṛkodara (Bhīma), Dhaumya, and the women—such as the daughter of the King of Matsya—stood there, bewildered and distraught, unable to bear the thought of parting from the wielder of the Śārṅga bow. Freed from the company of the wicked by their association with the virtuous, the wise cannot abandon such company, having once heard the delightful fame of Him who is praised everywhere. How could the sons of Pṛthā, whose minds were fixed on Him, endure the separation—after having seen, touched, conversed, reclined, sat, and eaten with Him? All of them, their hearts rushing after Him, followed with unblinking eyes, bound by affection, wandering here and there as He departed. The women of the family, their eyes overflowing with tears of longing for Devakī’s son, restrained themselves, thinking, ‘Let no inauspiciousness befall as He leaves the house.’ The air resounded with the music of mṛdaṅgas, conches, bherīs, vīṇās, paṇavas, gomukhas, dhundhuris, ānakas, bells, and dundubhis, creating a festival of sound. The noble women of the Kuru dynasty, eager to behold Kṛṣṇa, climbed to the tops of the palaces and showered Him with flowers, their eyes shining with love and modesty. Guḍākeśa, the beloved friend, took up a white parasol adorned with strings of pearls and a jeweled handle to shade the Lord. Uddhava and Sātyaki, with wondrous fans, gently fanned Madhupati as He shone like a jewel upon the road, showered with flowers from above. Here and there, the twice-born uttered blessings—some appropriate, some not—addressed to Him who is beyond all qualities, yet whose essence is the very source of all qualities. Among the women of the city, conversation arose, captivating all who heard, as their minds were absorbed in the glories of the Lord. They spoke: ‘Indeed, this very person is the ancient Being, who alone existed, undifferentiated in Himself, before the manifestation of qualities—as the soul and Lord of the universe, with His own power dormant in the night of dissolution. Then, impelled by His own power, He followed His living energy—nature—desiring to create. Wishing to assign names and forms to the formless Self, He, the maker of scripture, set the world in motion. That very abode, which the sages—having mastered their senses and conquered the wind—behold with minds purified by overflowing devotion, surely this Being is worthy to purify existence. He, whose friendship is sung, whose sacred stories are told in the Vedas and in secret by those who know the mysteries, is the sole Lord, the soul of the universe, who by His play creates, maintains, and destroys, yet remains unattached to these acts. Whenever kings of darkened minds rule by unrighteousness, then indeed, from among the Sātvatas, He assumes forms, bearing fortune, truth, compassion, and fame, for the welfare of the world, age after age.