O King, from this very day, in just five days, he will abandon his body, which will be reduced to ashes. As the body of her husband burns in the fire, his faithful wife, together with her brother-in-law, will stand outside, gazing sorrowfully as her beloved enters the flames. When Vidura hears this astonishing news, O descendant of the Kurus, he is filled with a mixture of joy and sorrow, and he decides to depart from there to visit holy places. Having thus spoken, the sage Narada, accompanied by Tumburu, ascended to the heavens. Yudhishthira, holding Narada’s words deep in his heart, let go of his grief. What wonder is this, O King? In Vasudeva, the Soul of all, a love never before seen is growing among the people of Vraja and their children. There, in that sacred land where the unconquered Lord resided, even natural enemies—men and beasts—lived together as friends, along with swift deer and other creatures. There, the Supreme, non-dual, infinite Lord, whose knowledge is beyond fathoming, enacted childhood pastimes as a cowherd boy. He wandered, searching for calves and friends, a morsel of food in His hand, just as before. In that very form, He was beheld by Brahma, the creator. Upon seeing Him, Brahma quickly descended from his own celestial vehicle. He bowed to the earth as if casting down a golden staff, and with the crowns of his four heads, he touched the Lord’s two feet. Tears of joy streamed from his eyes as he performed an abhisheka, a ceremonial bathing of the Lord’s feet. Rising again and again, Brahma fell at Krishna’s feet, overwhelmed by the greatness he had witnessed in the past. After a long time, Brahma rose slowly, wiping his eyes, and with his neck bowed, gazed upon Mukunda. With palms joined in reverence, full of humility and composure, he trembled and spoke in a choked, tearful voice. Meanwhile, Sūta continued: When Arjuna departed for Dvārakā, longing to see his relatives and to learn of the deeds of the illustrious 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 course of Time and the reversal of natural order. The conduct of people worsened—driven by anger, greed, and falsehood. Dealings became crooked, friendship tainted with deceit, and quarrels arose among fathers and mothers, friends and brothers, even among married couples. As such dire omens increased with the advance of Time, the king, witnessing the rise of greed and unrighteousness, spoke to his younger brother. He said, “Arjuna was sent to Dvārakā, longing to see his relatives and to learn of the deeds of the illustrious Krishna. 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 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, terrestrial, 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, O dear one, this dog is crying at me like one who is afraid. Animals circle me on the left and the right, and, O best of men, I see my horses weeping. This pigeon, a messenger of death, and the owl, unsettling my mind, and the screeching of the night-owl—these portend sleeplessness and emptiness. “The quarters are filled with smoke, the horizons tremble along with the mountains, and, O dear one, there are great thunderclaps together with lightning. The wind blows harshly, scattering dust and darkness; the clouds rain blood everywhere, in a most dreadful manner. See the sun, its brilliance dimmed, and the planets colliding in the sky, while the heavens seem ablaze and crowded with strange beings. The rivers and streams are agitated, the lakes and minds as well; the fire does not blaze even with ghee. What will this time bring? “Calves do not drink from their mothers’ udders, 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.” As Yudhishthira thus reflected, his mind disturbed by these portents, O Brahman, Arjuna—the one whose banner bore the image of Hanuman—returned from the city of the Yadus. Yudhishthira saw him fallen at his feet, unlike before, distressed, his face lowered, shedding tears from the lotus of his eyes. Seeing his brother, whose heart was troubled and whose appearance had changed, the king questioned him in the midst of friends, recalling Narada’s words. “Are our relatives in Anarta city living happily—the Madhus, Bhojas, Dasharhas, Ahukas, Satvatas, Andhakas, and Vrishnis? Is Shura, our maternal grandfather, well, and is his wife also well? Is our uncle, Anakadundubhi, and his younger brothers safe? Are the seven sisters, their husbands, other maternal uncles with their sons, and their daughters-in-law, led by Devaki herself, all well? Is King Ahuka alive, and his wicked son and younger brother? Is Hridika with his son, Akrura, Jayanta, Gada, and Sarana well? Are those like Shatrujit and others safe? Is Rama, the Lord of the Satvatas, living happily? Is Pradyumna, the great chariot-warrior of all the Vrishnis, well? Is Aniruddha, deep in his passions, growing and blessed?” Thus, with a heart full of concern and foreboding, Yudhishthira questioned his brother, seeking news of his kin and the fate of the Lord.