Sūta began his narration: After Arjuna departed for Dvārakā, eager to meet his dear relatives and to hear of the wondrous deeds of the illustrious Kṛṣṇa, many months passed, yet Arjuna did not return. O best of the Kurus, during this time, ominous and dreadful signs began to appear. King Yudhiṣṭhira observed the fierce movement of Time, the natural order turning upside down, and the conduct of people deteriorating. Anger, greed, and falsehood seemed to drive everyone, and their dealings grew crooked. Friendships became tainted with deceit; quarrels erupted among fathers, mothers, friends, brothers, and married couples. As these dire omens increased and unrighteousness and greed rose among the people, the king, troubled by what he witnessed, spoke to his younger brother. Yudhiṣṭhira said, “Arjuna was sent to Dvārakā, longing to see our relatives and to learn of the deeds of the glorious Kṛṣṇa. Now, seven months have passed, and your younger brother Bhīmasena has not returned; I do not know the reason for this at all. Has the time foretold by the divine sage arrived, when the Lord intends to relinquish His earthly play? By His grace, we have gained wealth, kingdom, wives, life, family, subjects, victory over enemies, and even the worlds themselves. See these portents, O tiger among men—celestial, terrestrial, and bodily—terrible and ominous, appearing near us, filling us with fear and confusion. My thighs, eyes, and arms are trembling 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 cries at me as if afraid. Animals circle me on the left and right, and, O best of men, I see my horses weeping. A pigeon, 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, O dear one, there are great thunderclaps together with lightning. The wind blows harshly, scattering dust and darkness; the clouds rain blood everywhere, in the 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. Rivers and streams are agitated, 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 Yudhiṣṭhira thus reflected, his mind disturbed by these portents, O Brahman, Arjuna—the one with the monkey-banner—returned from the city of the Yadus. Yudhiṣṭhira saw him fallen at his feet, unlike before, distressed, his face lowered, tears dropping 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 the words of Narada. Yudhiṣṭhira asked, “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, along with 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? Are Sushena, Charudesha, Samba—the son of Jambavati—and others, the foremost of the Karsnis, with their sons, like Rishabha, well? And likewise, are the followers of Shauri—Shrutadeva, Uddhava, Sunanda, Nanda, Shirishanya, and other chief Satvatas—well? Are all those who rely on the arms of Rama and Krishna safe? Do those bound by friendship remember our welfare? Is Govinda, the Lord, devoted to Brahmanas and affectionate to his devotees, living happily in the city of Sudharma, surrounded by friends? For the welfare, safety, and prosperity of the worlds, does the primeval, infinite friend, the man, remain in the ocean of the Yadu dynasty? When the Yadus are honored in their own city, protected by many strong arms, they play in supreme bliss, like great heroes. By serving at the feet, which is their chief duty, Satyā and the other sixteen thousand women, having conquered the celestial goddesses in beauty, receive blessings suited for the beloveds of Indra, the wielder of the thunderbolt. The foremost Yadus, who live by the rise of their many strong arms and are fearless at all times, forcibly enter the Sudharmā assembly hall, fit for the best of gods, with their feet, having brought it there. My dear, do you remain free from illness? You appear to me as if your radiance has faded. Have you failed to obtain something, been disrespected, or stayed away for a long time? Have you not been struck by inauspicious things, such as sounds or other disturbances? Have you failed to give or fulfill what was promised to supplicants out of desire?” Thus, Yudhiṣṭhira, troubled by ominous signs and his brother’s changed demeanor, anxiously questioned Arjuna about the welfare of their kin and the fate of the Lord, seeking to understand the cause of the sorrow that weighed so heavily upon them.