Yudhishthira, ever concerned for the well-being of his kin, gently inquired of Vidura, “Dear one, have you seen or heard any news of our friends and relatives, the devotees of Krishna? Are the Yadavas living happily in their city?” Thus addressed by the righteous king, Vidura recounted all that he had seen and experienced, step by step, faithfully describing events—yet out of compassion, he concealed the unbearable calamity of the Yadu dynasty’s destruction. He could not bear to speak of such sorrow, unwilling to cause grief to others. Vidura remained there for some time, honored and content as if he were a god, bringing comfort and happiness to his elder brother and joy to all around him. Meanwhile, Aryama, in Yama’s stead—since Yama, due to a curse, was living as a Shudra for a hundred years—administered justice and punishment as required. With his kingdom restored and his grandson established as heir, Yudhishthira rejoiced with his brothers, those very guardians of the world, in supreme prosperity. Yet, as often happens for those deeply attached to their homes and absorbed in worldly pursuits, time—so difficult to overcome—passed unnoticed. Perceiving this, Vidura spoke with urgency to Dhritarashtra: “O King, depart quickly; see how danger has come. There is no remedy here, from any source or at any time. This is the Supreme Time, the Lord Himself, who comes for all. Even those dearest to us, bound by life itself, are overtaken and suddenly separated—what to speak of wealth and possessions? Fathers, brothers, friends, sons—all have been slain; your youth is gone, old age consumes you, and you dwell in another’s house. How powerful is the hope for life in a living being! See how you, like a mere caretaker, accept food only after Bhima has eaten. Fire has been set, gifts given, poison administered, wives dishonored, land and wealth stolen—what remains for those who gave their lives for such things? Even your body, pitiable one, though longing to live, will depart against your will, worn out by old age, like threadbare clothing. One who, having lost all purpose for this body, becomes detached and freed from bonds, leaves it behind without concern for its fate—such a person is wise. He who, disillusioned by his own or another’s actions, self-possessed and with Hari in his heart, leaves home—such a man is supreme. Therefore, let your journey be northward, your path unknown to others, for from this point onward, time draws men away through the influence of the modes.” Thus awakened by his wise brother Vidura, King Dhritarashtra cut the strong bonds of affection for his family and departed, following the path shown by Vidura. The virtuous Gandhari, daughter of Subala and devoted to her husband, followed him as he left, relinquishing her staff of authority, just as noble souls give up their attachments at the end. Ajatashatru—Yudhishthira—having made peace with all, performed fire sacrifices, honored the brahmins with gifts of sesame, cows, land, and gold, and then entered his house to pay respects to his elders. But he did not see 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.” Distressed, he wondered further, “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 said: Out of compassion and the pain of separation, Sanjaya was overwhelmed and, unable to see the Lord within himself, could not reply, so deeply afflicted was he. Wiping his tears with his hands and steadying himself, Sanjaya remembered the Lord’s feet and answered Ajatashatru. He said, “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 with 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 guides a ship across the sea, the illustrious Narada, best among sages, spoke: “Just as cows, tied by their own ropes to a stake, are bound, so too are beings bound by names and words, carrying out offerings for the Lord. 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 neither 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. Dhritarashtra, together with his brother and Gandhari his wife, has gone south of the Himalayas to the hermitage of the sages, accompanied by his own wife. That river, the celestial Ganga, divided herself into seven streams by seven channels for the pleasure of the seven sages; thus she is called the river of seven streams.” Thus, the hearts of the Pandavas were guided and consoled by the wisdom of Narada, and the course of destiny unfolded, as ordained by the Supreme Lord.