After the divine mission had been fulfilled, the Lord, whose work on earth was nearly complete, waited patiently for what little remained to be accomplished. During this time, all were advised to observe and remain vigilant as long as the Lord continued to dwell among them. Meanwhile, Dhritarashtra, accompanied by his brother and his steadfast wife Gandhari, had journeyed south of the Himalayas. There, they sought refuge in the hermitage of the sages, seeking solace and peace in the company of the wise. In that sacred region, the celestial Ganga, for the delight of the seven great sages, had divided herself into seven streams, flowing through seven channels. Thus, she became known as the river of seven streams, a place of sanctity and serenity. Dhritarashtra, immersed in this holy atmosphere, followed the prescribed rituals: bathing at the proper times and offering oblations into the sacred fire. Sustaining himself on water alone, he lived with a tranquil mind, free from all desires. Through mastery of posture and breath, and by withdrawing his six senses, Dhritarashtra overcame the impurities born of passion and ignorance. Meditating upon Hari, he purified himself, firmly established in the mode of goodness. He merged his mind into pure knowledge, dissolving the sense of individuality into the Self, and then placed that Self in Brahman—just as space within a pot merges into the vast sky. In this way, he abided in supreme unity. Having destroyed the last traces of illusion and its qualities, restraining his senses and mind, and having completely given up food, Dhritarashtra remained unmoving, like a pillar. For one who has renounced all actions, let there be no obstacles. O King, it was foretold that on the fifth day from now, Dhritarashtra would abandon his body, which would then be reduced to ashes in the fire. As her husband’s body burned, the faithful Gandhari, together with her brother-in-law, would stand outside, gazing upon her beloved as he entered the flames. When Vidura heard this astonishing news, O descendant of the Kurus, he felt both joy and sorrow. Moved by these emotions, he set forth once more to visit holy places. Having delivered these revelations, the sage Narada, accompanied by Tumburu, ascended to the heavens. Yudhishthira, deeply moved, held Narada’s words in his heart and gradually let go of his grief. At this time, a wondrous phenomenon was being observed: in Vasudeva, the Soul of all, unprecedented love was blossoming among the people of Vraja and their children. In that blessed land where the unconquered Lord resided, even natural enemies—men and beasts—dwelt together in harmony, as friends. Swift deer and other creatures mingled peacefully, enchanted by His presence. There, the Supreme, non-dual, infinite Lord—whose knowledge is beyond measure—enacted His childhood pastimes as a cowherd boy. He searched for calves and played with His friends, holding a morsel of food in His hand, just as before. It was in this form that Brahma, the creator, beheld Him. Overwhelmed, Brahma quickly descended from his celestial vehicle, bowed down to 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, bathing the Lord’s feet. Again and again, Brahma rose and fell at Krishna’s feet, moved by the greatness he had witnessed before. At last, he sat, lost in contemplation of the Lord’s glory. Slowly rising, wiping the tears from his eyes, Brahma bowed his neck and gazed upon Mukunda. With palms joined in reverence, trembling, and his voice choked with emotion, he spoke words full of humility and devotion. Meanwhile, Sūta narrated: When Arjuna had set out for Dvārakā, eager to see his beloved relatives and learn of the deeds of the illustrious Krishna, many months passed, yet he did not return. O best of the Kurus, it was then that 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 character, driven by anger, greed, and falsehood. Dealings became crooked; even friendship was tainted with deceit. Quarrels arose among fathers, mothers, friends, brothers, and married couples. As these dire omens emerged and unrighteousness increased, the king, witnessing the rise of greed and confusion, spoke to his younger brother. He said, “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; I do not know the reason at all. Has the time foretold by the divine sage 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. Yet now, see these portents, O tiger among men—celestial, terrestrial, and bodily—terrible and ominous, appearing close by, 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 as if afraid. “Animals circle me on both sides, and I see my horses weeping. The pigeon, a messenger of death, and 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 there are great thunderclaps with lightning. The wind blows harshly, scattering dust and darkness; clouds rain blood everywhere, in a most dreadful fashion. “See the sun, its brilliance dimmed, and the planets colliding in the sky, while the heavens seem ablaze and crowded with strange beings. Rivers and streams are agitated, as are the lakes and people’s minds. The fire does not blaze even with ghee. What will this time bring? “Calves do not drink from their mothers, nor do the cows yield milk; the cows, with tearful faces, cry, and the bulls in the herd do not rejoice. The deities seem to weep, sweat, and tremble; these towns, villages, gardens, lakes, and hermitages have lost their splendor and joy. What misfortune are they showing us? “I think, by these great omens, surely the earth has been deprived of the feet of the Lord, and of those unique persons endowed with His fortune, and has lost its prosperity.” While Yudhishthira thus reflected, his mind troubled by these portents, O Brahman, Bhīmasena—the one whose banner bore the monkey—returned from the city of the Yadus. But he was changed: fallen at Yudhishthira’s feet, unlike ever before, distressed, his face lowered, and tears falling from his lotus eyes.