How could the sons of Pṛthā—whose hearts and minds were wholly fixed on Him—bear to be parted from Him? After all, they had just seen Him, touched Him, spoken with Him, shared in His rest, sat beside Him, and eaten with Him. Such intimacy with the Lord made separation unbearable. As He prepared to depart, the entire family, their hearts rushing after Him, followed with unblinking eyes. Bound by deep affection, they wandered here and there, unable to divert their gaze from Him. The women of the household, meanwhile, restrained their streaming tears, longing for Devakī’s son, yet thinking, “Let no inauspiciousness befall Him as He leaves our home.” Their love was so great that even in sorrow, they wished only for His welfare. As He set forth, the air filled with the jubilant sounds of mṛdaṅgas, conches, bherīs, vīṇās, paṇavas, gomukhas, dhundhuris, ānakas, bells, and dundubhis—each instrument resounding in celebration. The noble women of the Kuru dynasty, eager for a glimpse of Kṛṣṇa, climbed to the palace rooftops. Their eyes, sparkling with love and modesty, smiled as they showered Him with flowers from above. Guḍākeśa, the beloved of his dearest friend, took up a white parasol adorned with pearls and a jeweled handle, shielding Kṛṣṇa. Uddhava and Sātyaki, with wondrous fans, fanned Madhupati as He shone resplendent on the road, garlanded with falling flowers. All around, the twice-born uttered blessings—some fitting, some not—addressed to Him who is beyond all qualities, yet the very essence of qualities. Among the women of the city, talk flourished—captivating to all who overheard—as their minds were absorbed in the Glorious One. As they spoke, their words soared to the highest truths: “This very person is the ancient Being, the One who alone existed, undifferentiated, before all qualities, as the soul and Lord of the universe, with His power dormant in the night of dissolution. Again, impelled by His own power, He follows His living energy—nature—desiring to create. Wishing to assign names and forms to the formless Self, He, the maker of scripture, sets all in motion. “That very abode, which sages—having mastered their senses and subdued the wind—behold with purified minds overflowing with devotion, is surely this Being, who alone is worthy to purify existence. His friendship is sung, His sacred stories told in the Vedas and in secret by those who know the mysteries. He 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, darkened in mind, rule by unrighteousness, He appears from among the Sātvatas, assuming forms adorned with fortune, truth, compassion, and fame, for the world’s welfare, age after age. How praiseworthy is the Yadu lineage! How holy is the forest of Madhu, where this foremost of men, the Lord of Śrī, delights both by His birth and His wanderings. “Kuśasthalī, which eclipses the fame of heaven and brings virtue to earth, is blessed, for its people constantly behold their Lord’s smiling, glancing face. Surely, these women have worshipped the Lord through vows, ritual baths, offerings, and observances, for He has taken their hands in marriage. The women of Vraja, drinking the nectar of His affectionate speech, became utterly absorbed in Him. “Those whom He won at their own svayamvara, by the price of His valor after subduing powerful kings like Shishupala, and those other princesses such as the daughters of Pradyumna and Samba, whom He rescued by slaying Bhauma, were brought to Him by the thousands. These women, though they had abandoned all decorum and purity, have attained the highest womanhood, for their lotus-eyed husband never departs from their homes, touching their hearts with His presence.” As the women spoke thus, Hari glanced at them with a smiling acknowledgment and continued on His way. Ajātaśatru, out of affection and concern for the safety of the enemy of Madhu, deployed his fourfold army—infantry, cavalry, chariots, and elephants—to protect Him from any possible threats. Then Śauri, seeing the Kauravas who had come from afar and now stood distressed by separation, gently persuaded them to return to their homes. He then departed for His own city, accompanied by His beloved companions. He journeyed through the lands of the Kurus, Jāngalas, Pāñcālas, Śūrasenas, those along the Yamunā, Brahmāvarta, Kurukṣetra, Matsyas, and Sārasvatas. Crossing the desert of Marudhanva, He traveled to the regions of the Sauvīras and Ābhīras, and then to Ānarta, accompanied by Bhārgava, with His horses somewhat fatigued. At every place He passed, the local people honored Him with devotion. As evening approached, He turned westward, seeking pasture, and entered the land of the cows. At this point, His attendants and servants approached Him, saying, “O Supreme Lord, permit us to depart. By the sage’s grace, we have been blessed with the sight of the Lord.” They prayed: “May our speech always recount Your virtues, our ears hear Your stories, our hands serve You, our minds rest at Your feet. May our heads bow in remembrance of You, the abode of the universe, and may our eyes behold the holy ones who embody You.” Śuka then said: As the two praised Him in this way, the Lord of Gokula—who was bound to the mortar by the rope—smiled and spoke to the celestial beings. The Blessed Lord said, “This was already known to Me, revealed by the compassionate sage, that by the words of those blinded by wealth, you were deprived of your position and thus received My grace. For those who are virtuous, even-minded, and wholly devoted to Me, there is no bondage from seeing Me, just as the sun does not bind the eyes of men. Now go to your own abode, O Nalakūbara, for the supreme devotion you both desired for Me has arisen in your hearts.” Śuka continued: Thus addressed, the two circumambulated Him, bowed again and again, took leave of the bound mortar, and departed for the northern direction. In this way, the Supreme Lord was revealed by devotion; without such devotion, even the wise cannot behold Him. His actions, birth, and so forth are not governed by the laws that bind others; these are attributed to Him by Māyā, only to dispel the notion of agency. This period is called Brahmā’s kalpa, described as having distinctions, in which the general process of creation occurs, both primary and secondary. I will now explain the measure of time, the form that marks a kalpa, and, as before, describe the Padma Kalpa—so listen attentively. At this point, Śaunaka spoke: “O Sūta, you told us that Vidura, the foremost devotee, left behind his most difficult-to-abandon relatives and wandered among the holy places of the earth. The conversation between Vidura, son of Vyāsa, and the sage Kauśārava was based on spiritual inquiry; that great soul, when questioned, spoke the truth to him. Please tell us, gentle one, what Vidura did, and for what reason he renounced his family and then returned again.” Sūta replied: “What the great sage answered when King Parīkṣit asked him, I will now relate to you—listen carefully, for it follows the king’s questions.