When a person, having lost all attachment and purpose for the body, becomes truly free from all bonds and departs without concern for what may come, that person is recognized as wise. And the one who, whether through his own experiences or those of others, becomes disillusioned with worldly life, gains self-mastery, and, placing Lord Hari firmly within his heart, leaves home—such a person is truly the highest among men. Therefore, the advice was given: let your journey be toward the north, unseen by others, for from this point onward, the flow of time, driven by the qualities of nature, inevitably draws people away. Thus it was that King Dhritarashtra, awakened by the wise words of his younger brother Vidura, found the strength to sever the powerful bonds of affection for his family and departed along the path shown by his brother. The virtuous daughter of Subala, Gandhari, ever devoted to her husband, followed him as he left. She set aside the staff of authority she had carried for so long, just as noble souls relinquish all attachments at the end of their lives. Meanwhile, Ajatashatru—Yudhishthira, who had 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 to his dismay, he did not see his parents nor the daughter of Subala. There he found Sanjaya seated, and, anxious, he asked, “O Gavalgana, where is our aged father, now deprived of sight? And where is my mother, who grieves for her slain sons? Where has my uncle, our friend, gone? Perhaps, thinking me unwise and now bereft of kin, he has, with his wife, sought the Ganga, hoping for relief from sorrow.” With these thoughts, Yudhishthira was overcome by distress. He lamented, “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: Out of compassion and the pain of separation, Sanjaya was overwhelmed and, unable to see the Lord within himself, was too afflicted to speak. Wiping his tears with his hands and steadying himself, Sanjaya finally answered Ajatashatru, remembering the feet of the Lord. But when pressed, Sanjaya confessed, “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 the sage, worshipping him with due 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 skilled helmsman guiding a boat across the sea, the illustrious Narada, best among sages, spoke words of wisdom. He explained, “Just as cows are tied by their own ropes to a stake, so too are beings bound by names and words, carrying out the 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 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. There, the celestial Ganga divides herself into seven streams 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 wife, 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. Meanwhile, 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 sacred land, natural enemies such as men and beasts lived together like friends, for the unconquered Lord resided there, along with swift deer and other creatures. There, the Supreme, non-dual, infinite Lord, whose knowledge is unfathomable, enacted the childhood pastimes of a cowherd boy. He searched for calves and friends as before, holding a morsel of food in His hand, and was beheld by Brahma, the creator. Seeing Him, Brahma quickly descended from his own vehicle, bowed down on the earth as if casting down a golden staff, and touched the Lord’s two feet with the crowns of his four heads. With tears of joy, he performed an abhisheka. Rising again and again, Brahma fell at Krishna’s feet after a long time, and then sat, recalling again and again the greatness he had previously witnessed. Then, rising slowly and wiping his eyes, with his neck bowed, he gazed upon Mukunda. With palms joined in reverence, full of humility and composure, trembling and with a choked, tearful voice, he began to speak.