Yudhishthira, the noble king, welcomed his uncle Vidura, who had returned after years of wandering. With great affection, he inquired, “Dear uncle, how have you managed to sustain yourself as you journeyed across the earth? Have you visited the principal holy places and sacred fields in your travels?” But then, reflecting on Vidura’s exalted character, Yudhishthira added with reverence, “O lordly one, devotees such as you are themselves holy places. By carrying within your heart the Lord who bears the mace, you sanctify even the most sacred sites you visit.” His concern extended to their extended family as well. “O dear one, have you seen or heard any news of our friends and relatives, those devoted worshippers of Krishna? Are the Yadavas living happily in their city?” Thus, Yudhishthira’s questions were filled with love and longing. Vidura, addressed by the king, began to recount all that he had experienced during his journeys, relating everything step by step. Yet, out of compassion, he withheld the most painful news—the destruction of the Yadu dynasty. Though something terrible and unbearable had occurred, Vidura did not reveal it, unable to bear the sorrow it would bring to others. For some time, Vidura stayed with them, honored and happy, like a god among men. He brought well-being to his elder brother Dhritarashtra and happiness to all around him. During this period, Aryama, the celestial adjudicator, administered justice to wrongdoers, for Yama, the usual lord of death, was, due to a curse, living the life of a Shudra for a hundred years. Yudhishthira, having regained his kingdom and seeing his grandson enthroned as heir to the dynasty, rejoiced with his brothers—guardians of the world—in supreme prosperity. Yet, for those absorbed in the affairs of home and heedless of the passage of time, days slipped by unnoticed, for time is exceedingly difficult to overcome. Vidura, perceiving the subtle approach of danger, spoke earnestly to Dhritarashtra: “O King, depart quickly; see how peril has arrived. There is no remedy here, from anywhere or at any time. This is the Supreme Time, the Lord Himself, who comes for all of us. Even those most dear, with whom our very lives are intertwined, are overtaken by Him, and people are suddenly separated. What then of others, such as wealth and possessions?” He continued, “Fathers, brothers, friends, sons—all have been slain. Youth has departed. Your own self is consumed by old age, and you now reside in another’s house. Ah, how great is the hope for life in a living being, that you, like a caretaker, accept food left aside by Bhima. Fire has been set, gifts given, poison administered, wives dishonored, land and wealth stolen—how much remains for those who gave their lives for such things?” “Even your body, O pitiable one, though unwilling, will depart, worn out by old age, like threadbare clothes. One who, having lost all purpose for this body, becomes detached and freed from bonds, leaves it without concern for its destination; such a person is called wise. He who, disillusioned and self-possessed, whether by his own cause or another’s, places Hari in his heart and leaves home—such a man is supreme.” “Therefore, let your journey be toward the northern direction, with your path unknown to others. For from here onward, time generally draws men away through the influence of the qualities.” Thus, awakened by his wise younger brother, King Dhritarashtra cut the strong bonds of affection for his people and departed along the path shown by Vidura. The virtuous Gandhari, the daughter of Subala, devoted to her husband, followed him, laying aside her staff of authority, just as noble souls relinquish their attachments at the end. Some time later, Yudhishthira, known as Ajatashatru, having made peace with all, performed fire sacrifices, honored the brahmins with sesame, cows, land, and gold, and entered his house to pay respects to his elders. But he did not find his parents or Gandhari, the daughter of Subala. There, finding Sanjaya seated, he anxiously asked, “O Gavalgana, where is our aged father, now deprived of sight? And where is mother, grieving for her slain sons? Where has my uncle, our friend, gone? Perhaps, thinking me lacking in wisdom and now bereft of kin, he has, with his wife, sought the Ganga, hoping for relief from sorrow.” Thus, Yudhishthira fell into distress, lamenting, “After our father Pandu passed away, our uncles protected all our friends and children from calamity. Where have those protectors gone now, leaving us behind?” Suta, the narrator, explained that Sanjaya, overwhelmed by compassion and the pain of separation, was unable to reply, being deeply afflicted and unable to see the Lord within himself. Wiping his tears and steadying himself, Sanjaya remembered the feet of the Lord and answered Ajatashatru, “O delight of your lineage, I do not know the decision of your parents or of Gandhari, O mighty-armed one; I have been deceived by these great souls.” At that moment, the venerable sage Narada arrived, accompanied by Tumburu. Rising to greet and honor him, Yudhishthira and his brothers worshipped the sage. Yudhishthira said, “O revered one, I do not know where my parents have gone, nor where my mother, grieving for her slain sons and devoted to austerity, has departed.” Then, like a helmsman who shows the way across the sea, the illustrious sage Narada, best among sages, spoke: “Just as cows, tied by their own ropes to a stake, are bound by a cord, so too are beings bound by names and words, carrying out their offerings for the Lord. As the coming together and separation of playthings depend on the will of the player, so too do the unions and separations of people occur by the will of the Lord.” “What you consider as permanent or impermanent in this world is not truly so; in any case, they are not to be grieved for, except due to attachment born of delusion. Therefore, O dear one, give up this weakness of heart, born of ignorance. How could those helpless and pitiable ones survive without me?” “This body, composed of the five elements, is subject to time, action, and the modes of nature. How can one protect others, just as someone seized by a serpent cannot save another? The handless are food for the handed, the footless for the four-footed; among all, the weak are the sustenance of the strong—life lives upon life.” “O King, that Supreme Lord, who is the one Self of all selves and perceives Himself by Himself, dwells both within and without; see Him, who appears through the power of His own illusion. This very Lord, O great King, the creator and sustainer of beings, has now descended in the form of Time, to bring about the destruction of the enemies of the gods. The divine task has been accomplished; now He awaits what remains to be done. Until then, you all should observe, as long as the Lord remains here.” Thus, Narada’s words brought clarity and peace to the hearts of Yudhishthira and his brothers, reminding them of the Lord’s purpose and the impermanence of worldly ties.