Dhritarashtra, once surrounded by the warmth of family—fathers, brothers, friends, and sons—now found himself bereft of them all. The vigor of youth had slipped away, old age had consumed his very being, and he lived as a dependent in the house of another. Yet, how powerful is the hope for life in living beings! Despite his circumstances, Dhritarashtra, like a mere caretaker, accepted even the food left behind by Bhima. Consider all that had transpired: fires had been set, gifts given, poison administered, wives dishonored, land and wealth stolen—so much had been sacrificed, and yet, what truly remained for those who had given their lives for such things? Even his own body, clinging to life, would soon depart, worn thin by the passing of years, like clothes grown threadbare with age. A wise person, having lost all purpose for the body, becomes detached and free from worldly bonds, leaving the body without concern for its fate. Such a one is truly wise. He who, whether by his own realization or another’s guidance, becomes disillusioned with worldly life, self-controlled, and places Hari within his heart, leaves home—such a man is supreme. Therefore, Vidura counseled Dhritarashtra, let your journey be toward the north, keeping your path unknown to others, for from this point onward, time draws men away, subjecting them to the influence of the three qualities of nature. Thus, awakened by the wisdom of his younger brother Vidura, King Dhritarashtra cut the strong bonds of affection for his kin and departed along the path shown by his brother. At his side was the virtuous daughter of Subala, Gandhari, ever devoted to her husband. She followed him, relinquishing her staff of authority, just as noble souls give up their attachments at the end of life. Meanwhile, Ajatashatru—Yudhishthira—having made peace with all, performed fire sacrifices, honored the brahmins with gifts of sesame, cows, land, and gold, and entered his home to pay respects to his elders. But when he arrived, he found neither his parents nor Gandhari, the daughter of Subala. There, he saw Sanjaya seated. Anxiously, he asked, “O Gavalgana, where is our aged father, now deprived of sight? And where is my 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’s heart was seized by distress. He lamented 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, witnessing Yudhishthira’s compassion and pain at this separation, was overwhelmed and could not reply, unable to see the Lord within his own heart due to his deep affliction. Sanjaya, steadying himself and wiping away his tears, 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 with Tumburu. Yudhishthira and his brothers rose to greet and honor him, worshipping the sage with reverence. 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 to them. He said, “Just as cows are tied by their own ropes to a stake, so too are beings bound by names and words, performing their offerings for the Lord. The coming together and separation of playthings depend on the will of the player; likewise, the unions and separations of people occur by the will of the Lord. What you consider as permanent or impermanent in this world is truly neither; such distinctions are only grieved for 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, made 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, the one Self of all selves, perceives Himself by Himself, and 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 wife. There, the celestial Ganga divides 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, as space within a pot merges into the sky, he abides. With the residue of illusion and its qualities destroyed, with the senses and mind restrained, having given up all food, he remains unmoving like a pillar. Let there be no obstacle for him, who has renounced all actions. O King, from today, on the fifth day hence, he will abandon his body, and it will be reduced to ashes. As the body of her husband burns in the fire, the faithful Gandhari, together with her brother-in-law, will stand outside, gazing upon her husband as he enters the flames. Hearing this astonishing news, O descendant of the Kurus, Vidura, filled with both joy and sorrow, will depart from there to visit holy places.” Having spoken thus, Narada, together with Tumburu, ascended to heaven. Yudhishthira, holding these words in his heart, gave up his grief. Yudhishthira marveled, “What is this, that seems so wonderful? In Vasudeva, the Soul of all, unprecedented love is increasing among the people of Vraja and their children.” In that land where the unconquered Lord resided, even natural enemies—men and beasts—lived together as friends, alongside swift deer and other creatures, in harmony and peace.