For some time, Dhritarashtra dwelled in the palace, honored and content, revered almost like a god. His presence brought well-being to his elder brother and happiness to all around him. During this period, Aryama fulfilled the role of dispensing justice, punishing wrongdoers as necessary, since Yama, due to a curse, was living as a Shudra for a hundred years. Yudhishthira, having regained his kingdom and seeing his grandson established as heir to the dynasty, rejoiced with his brothers—those great souls who seemed like the very guardians of the world—enjoying the highest prosperity. Yet, as is the way for those attached to their homes and heedless of the passage of time, absorbed in worldly pursuits, the relentless and insurmountable force of time slipped by unnoticed. Vidura, ever perceptive, observed this and approached Dhritarashtra, speaking with urgency: “O King, depart quickly; see how danger has come near.” He continued, “There is no remedy here, from any quarter or at any time, O Lord. This is the Supreme Time, the Lord Himself, who has come for all of us. Even those most dear to us, whose lives are bound up with our own, are overtaken by time, and people are suddenly separated. What then can be said of others, such as wealth and possessions? “Fathers, brothers, friends, sons—all have been slain. Youth has departed. Your very self is consumed by old age, and you reside in the house of another. How powerful is the hope for life in living beings! By that hope, you accept food left aside by Bhima, just as a caretaker would. 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 own body, pitiable as it is, though clinging to life, will one day depart against its will, worn out by old age, like clothes that are threadbare. One who, having lost all purpose for this body, becomes detached and free from bonds, leaves it behind without concern for what follows—such a person is truly wise. And he who, whether from his own realization or another’s prompting, becomes disillusioned and self-possessed, placing Hari within his heart, leaves home behind—such a man is supreme. “Therefore, let your journey be toward the northern direction, keeping your path unknown to others. For from this point on, time generally draws men away through the influence of the modes of nature.” Thus awakened by the wise counsel of his younger brother Vidura, King Dhritarashtra cut the strong bonds of affection for his people and departed along the path shown to him. The virtuous Gandhari, daughter of Subala, ever devoted to her husband, followed him as he left. She laid aside her staff of authority, just as noble souls relinquish their attachments at the end of their journey. Meanwhile, Yudhishthira, known as Ajatashatru, having made peace with all, performed fire sacrifices and honored the brahmins with gifts of sesame, cows, land, and gold. He then entered his home to pay respects to his elders, but did not find his parents or Gandhari, the daughter of Subala. Seeing Sanjaya seated there, Yudhishthira anxiously inquired, “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.” Overcome with distress, he continued, “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 out of compassion and the pain of separation, Sanjaya was overwhelmed and, unable to see the Lord within himself, could not reply, being deeply afflicted. Wiping his tears with his hands and steadying himself, Sanjaya remembered the feet of the Lord 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, accompanied by Tumburu. Yudhishthira and his brothers rose to greet and honor him, worshipping the sage with great respect. 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 guiding a ship across the sea, the illustrious Narada, best among sages, spoke: “Just as cows are tied by their own ropes to a stake, so too are beings bound by names and words, performing offerings for the Lord. Just as the coming together and separation of playthings depends 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 permanent or impermanent in this world is neither truly so; in any case, they are not to be grieved for, except through 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. There, after bathing at the proper times and offering oblations into the fire according to the prescribed rules, he lives on water alone, with a tranquil mind, free from all desires. “Having conquered posture and breath, withdrawn his six senses, and destroyed the impurity of passion and ignorance through meditation on Hari, he has become pure in the mode of goodness. Merging the mind into knowledge, dissolving the knower of the field into the Self, and placing the Self in Brahman—just as space within a pot merges into the sky—he abides in that state.” Thus, the story unfolds, revealing the passage of time, the power of detachment, and the supreme guidance of the Lord and His devotees.