At every entrance to the city, magnificent archways shaped like makaras stood proudly, surrounded by clusters of banana trunks and piles of betel nuts, all arranged with exquisite care. Each gateway was further adorned with water pitchers topped with glowing lamps, garlands made from tender mango leaves, and strings of pearls hanging gracefully. All around, the city sparkled with ramparts, gateways, and houses decorated with golden ornaments, their shining spires rising from grand mansions. The courtyards, streets, and crossroads were spotless, sprinkled with fragrant sandal paste, and offerings of parched rice, unbroken grains, flowers, fruits, and rice lay everywhere, creating a festive atmosphere. As the steadfast king made his way through the city, women at various places came forward, 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. Inside that splendid palace, adorned with clusters of great jewels, the king was cherished deeply by his father and lived there as if he were a god in heaven. The beds were as white as milk foam, decorated with golden ornaments, the seats were the most precious, and all the furnishings were crafted from gold. Crystal walls and great emeralds gleamed, illuminated by jeweled lamps adorned 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 joyfully. Ponds with steps made of lapis lazuli brimmed with lotuses, water lilies, and kumuda flowers, frequented by swans, cranes, and chakravaka ducks. King Uttānapāda, the royal sage, upon witnessing his son's extraordinary glory, was filled with awe and wonder. Seeing Dhruva grown and beloved by the people, and approved by the ministers, the king bestowed upon him the lordship 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. Meanwhile, in another part of the tale, Śaunaka asked, “O best of the righteous, after Yudhiṣṭhira vanquished those who coveted his kingdom and wealth, and his meals were secured 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 devastated by the fire of its own descendants. Having established Yudhiṣṭhira in his rightful kingdom, Hari 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, supported by the unconquered, like Indra, with his brothers at his side. During his reign, the clouds rained as desired, the earth yielded whatever was wished for, and the cows joyfully drenched the villages with abundant milk. Rivers, oceans, mountains, forests, and plants—all the herbs—produced their fruits as desired. No ailments, diseases, or troubles—whether from fate, other beings, or oneself—ever afflicted the creatures under the rule of the king whose enemy was never born. Hari, having stayed for a few months in Hastināpura to bring joy to his friends and to please his beloved sister, eventually took leave. After being permitted, He embraced and bowed to them, ascended His chariot, and was honored by many. Subhadrā, Draupadī, Kuntī, the daughter of Virāṭa, Gāndhārī, Dhṛtarāṣṭra, Yuyutsu, Kripa, and the twins Nakula and Sahadeva were present. Vṛkodara, Dhaumya, and the women such as the daughter of the King of Matsya, bewildered and distraught, could not bear the separation from the wielder of Śārṅga. Freed from bad company by association with the virtuous, a wise person finds it impossible to abandon such company, having once heard the delightful fame of Him who is praised. How could the sons of Pṛthā, whose minds were fixed on Him, endure the separation—after seeing, touching, conversing, lying down, sitting, and eating with Him? All of them, their hearts drawn irresistibly after Him, followed Him with unblinking eyes, bound by affection, wandering here and there. The women of the family restrained their streaming tears out of longing for Devakī’s son, thinking, “Let no inauspiciousness occur as He leaves the house.” The air was filled with the sounds of mṛdaṅgas, conches, bherīs, vīṇās, paṇavas, gomukhas, dhundhuris, ānakas, bells, and dundubhis. The noble women of the Kurus, eager to see Kṛṣṇa, climbed to the tops of the palaces and showered Him with flowers, their eyes smiling with love and modesty. Guḍākeśa, beloved of the dearest friend, took up a white parasol adorned with a string of pearls and a jeweled handle. Uddhava and Sātyaki, with wondrous fans, fanned Madhupati as He shone on the road, being showered with flowers. Here and there, true blessings were heard, uttered by the twice-born—some appropriate, some not—addressed to Him who is beyond qualities, whose essence is qualities. Among the women of the Kaurava king’s city, mutual conversation arose, captivating all who listened, as their minds were absorbed in the Glorious One. They spoke: “Indeed, this very person is the ancient Being, who alone existed, undifferentiated in Himself, before the qualities, as the soul of the universe and its Lord, with His own power dormant in the night of dissolution. He, again, impelled by His own power, followed His own living energy—nature—desiring to create; wishing to assign names and forms to the formless Self, He, the maker of scripture, set it 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 is not attached to these. Whenever kings of darkened minds live 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. Ah, how truly praiseworthy is the lineage of Yadu! How supremely holy is the forest of Madhu, where this foremost of men, the Lord of Śrī, delights both by His birth and by His wandering.” Thus, in the city adorned with splendor and the hearts filled with devotion, the stories of kings and the Lord’s glories unfolded, woven together in reverence and wonder.