Narada, the great sage, spoke with gentle wisdom to Yudhishthira, seeking to comfort him in his grief. “Dear King,” he said, “just as the gathering and dispersal of children’s playthings depend on the will of the child, so too do the unions and separations of people in this world occur only by the will of the Supreme Lord. What you deem as permanent or impermanent is, in truth, neither so; such distinctions are not to be lamented, except by those ensnared by attachment and delusion. Therefore, O noble soul, cast aside this weakness of heart born of ignorance. Do not think, ‘How will the helpless survive without me?’ For this body, made of the five elements, is subject to the flow of time, the force of actions, and the influence of the modes of nature. How can one who is himself seized by the serpent of mortality protect another? In this world, the handless are food for those with hands, the footless for the four-footed; among all beings, the weak sustain the strong—life lives upon life. O King, the Supreme Lord, the Self of all selves, abides within and without, perceiving Himself by His own power; recognize Him, who appears through His own divine illusion. This very Lord, the creator and sustainer of all beings, has now descended in the form of Time to bring about the destruction of the enemies of the gods. His divine work is accomplished; now He waits for what remains to be done. Until then, you all should observe, as long as the Lord remains here. Know that Dhritarashtra, along with his brother and his faithful wife Gandhari, has journeyed south of the Himalayas, to the hermitage of the sages. There flows the celestial Ganga, who, dividing herself into seven streams to please the seven great sages, is famed as the river of seven streams. There, following the proper times for bathing and offering oblations into the sacred fire according to scriptural injunctions, Dhritarashtra lives on water alone, his mind tranquil and free from all desires. By conquering posture and breath, withdrawing the six senses, and destroying the impurities of passion and ignorance through meditation on Lord Hari, he has become pure in the mode of goodness. Merging his mind into knowledge, dissolving the sense of the knower into the Self, and resting the Self in Brahman—just as space within a pot merges into the sky—he abides in oneness. With all residue of illusion and its qualities destroyed, senses and mind restrained, having given up all food, he now sits unmoving like a pillar. May nothing obstruct him, who has renounced all actions. O King, know that on the fifth day from today, he will abandon his body, which will be reduced to ashes. As her husband’s body burns in the fire, Gandhari, his faithful wife, together with her brother-in-law, will stand outside, gazing upon her husband as he enters the flames. When Vidura hears this astonishing news, O scion of the Kurus, he will be filled with both joy and sorrow, and will depart to visit holy places. Having thus spoken, Narada, accompanied by Tumburu, ascended to the heavens. Yudhishthira, holding these words close to his heart, relinquished his sorrow. He pondered, “What is this wonder? In Vasudeva, the Soul of all, unprecedented love is blossoming among the people of Vraja and their children.” In that land where the unconquered Lord dwelled, even natural enemies—men and beasts—lived together like friends, along with swift deer and other creatures. There, the Supreme, non-dual, infinite Lord, whose knowledge is unfathomable, enacted His childhood pastimes as a cowherd boy: searching for calves and friends as before, holding a morsel of food in His hand, He was beheld by Brahma, the creator himself. Upon seeing the Lord, Brahma quickly descended from his own vehicle, bowed to the earth as if casting down a golden staff, and with the crowns of his four heads, touched the Lord’s two feet. Tears of joy flowed as he performed an abhisheka of devotion. Rising again and again, he fell at Krishna’s feet, and after a long time, sat, recalling the greatness he had previously witnessed. Then, rising slowly and wiping his eyes, Brahma, with neck bowed and palms joined in reverence, gazed upon Mukunda. Full of humility and composure, trembling, he spoke in a choked, tearful voice. Meanwhile, Sūta continued the tale: When Arjuna had departed for Dvārakā, longing to see his relatives and to learn of the glorious deeds of Krishna, several months passed, yet Arjuna did not return. Then, O best of the Kurus, ominous and dreadful signs began to appear. Yudhishthira observed the fierce march of Time, the reversal of natural order, and the decline in people’s conduct—driven by anger, greed, and falsehood. Dealings became crooked, friendship tainted with deceit; quarrels arose among fathers, mothers, friends, brothers, and married couples. As such dire omens appeared and unrighteousness grew among people, the king, witnessing the rise of greed and adharma, spoke to his younger brother: “Arjuna was sent to Dvārakā, longing to see his relatives and to learn of Krishna’s deeds. Now seven months have passed, and your younger brother Bhīmasena has not returned; for what reason, I do not know at all. Has the time foretold by the divine sage now arrived, when the Lord intends to relinquish His earthly play? For by His grace we obtained wealth, kingdom, wives, life, family, subjects, victory over enemies, and even the worlds. See these portents, O tiger among men—celestial, earthly, and bodily—terrible and ominous, appearing nearby, filling us with fear and confusion. My thighs, eyes, and arms tremble again and again, and my heart is unsteady; surely, something inauspicious is approaching. The she-jackal, with fiery mouth, howls at the rising sun; and this dog cries at me like one who is afraid. Animals are circling me on both sides, and even my horses are weeping. This pigeon, a messenger of death, the owl unsettling my mind, and the screeching of the night-owl—all these portend sleeplessness and emptiness. The quarters are filled with smoke, the horizons tremble along with the mountains, and great thunderclaps resound together with lightning. The wind blows harshly, scattering dust and darkness, and the clouds rain blood everywhere in a most dreadful manner.” Thus, the king beheld the gathering signs of an age drawing to a close, and his heart grew heavy with foreboding for what was yet to come.