Having understood the profound truths, the king, filled with unwavering faith, devoted himself to studying the entire Bhagavad Gītā. Through this dedication, he ultimately attained the highest, most exalted state. Thus concludes the one hundred and eighty-eighth chapter in the section extolling the greatness of the Gītā, found in the Uttara-khaṇḍa of the illustrious Padma Purāṇa. Now, Lord Īśvara spoke to Pārvatī, the wide-eyed daughter of the snowy mountain: “O gentle one, listen as I reveal to you the greatness of the fifteenth chapter of the Gītā.” In the land of the Gauḍas there once reigned a mighty king named Kṛpālu, whose valor was likened to Narasiṃha himself. On the battlefield, even hosts of gods fell before the sharp edge of his sword. His royal elephants, intoxicated with power, poured forth streams of gifts that could withstand the blazing heat of the summer sun. These elephants, though maddened and terrified by the chaos of war, found refuge with the king and shone like moving mountains. The mountains themselves, protected by the king’s compassion, echoed with the cries of these mighty beasts. It was no wonder that the earth, battered by the hooves of his galloping horses, became broken and uneven. Amidst all this, the lord of serpents composed a resplendent commentary. Among the king’s soldiers was a wise and powerful man named Sarabhabheruṇḍa, skilled in both weaponry and scripture, his arms strong beyond compare. In fortresses, in treasuries, in horses and warriors, he matched the king himself, inspiring heroic valor in all who served him. Yet, this very Sarabhabheruṇḍa was overtaken by sinful ambition. Desiring to seize the throne, he resolved to slay the king and his sons by force, planning to carry out his deed within a few days. But fate intervened: suddenly, he was struck down by cholera and died. Because of this evil intent, he was soon reborn as a spirited horse with a slender belly in the land of Sindhu. A merchant’s son, expert in the ways of horses, purchased this remarkable animal at great cost and, with much effort, brought it home. In time, after the merchant’s death, the king—now aged and ruling through his grandsons and descendants—continued to govern his realm. The merchant’s son, seeking an audience, brought the splendid horse to the king’s door and waited to be received. Though already known to the court, the merchant was ushered in by the doorkeeper and asked his purpose. He replied with clarity: “O Lord, regarding this horse as a jewel among all three worlds, I acquired it at a great price for its noble qualities.” At the king’s command, the horse was brought forth. The horse’s presence stirred all who saw it—those skilled in reading the marks of horses shook their heads in wonder, and even the bravest were filled with awe. Renowned for its swiftness, the horse’s glory shone through the play of its saliva and foam. In qualities and essence, it rivaled Uccaiḥśravas, the celestial steed, its noble bearing evident in its bowed neck and radiant form. Fanned by white yak-tails, its breath rose and fell like the waves of the milk ocean. Beneath twin blue parasols, it gleamed like a Himalayan peak beneath rain clouds, its beautiful neck tossing as it touched the earth with fiery energy. Proclaiming victory with a mighty neigh, it scattered enemies and announced its fame in all directions. It was a treasure of spirit, a living abode of beauty, and an ocean of auspicious marks. The merchant presented the horse to the king, who was surrounded by ministers expert in equine lore, and they described the horse’s virtues in many ways. Pleased, the king rewarded the merchant with gold and, filled with joy, accepted the swift steed. Summoning the horse keeper, the king examined the animal carefully, then dismissed his court and retired to his inner chambers. In the royal arena, the king—his body adorned with scars from many battles—was often asked about the horse. One day, eager for the hunt and filled with curiosity, the king mounted his new horse and rode into the forest. Leaving his soldiers behind as they scattered in pursuit of game, the king became engrossed in the chase and was soon overcome by thirst. Seeking water for his horse, he crossed over to a secluded spot, tied the horse to a tree branch, and climbed onto a rock to look around. There, by chance, he discovered a half-verse from the fifteenth chapter of the Gītā, written on a fragment that had been carried by the wind. As the king read the sacred words, the horse, in that very moment, was liberated from its past birth and fell lifeless to the ground. The king quickly untied the horse and tried to revive it, but the noble animal did not rise. At that instant, a celestial being appeared before the king—Sarabhabheruṇḍa, now freed from his former existence—who addressed the king in a sweet voice and then ascended to the abode of the gods in a divine chariot. Thereafter, the king climbed the mountain and came upon a splendid hermitage, adorned with punnāga, banana, mango, and coconut trees, a place of peace and beauty.