Verse 1

In plain words

12. The Advent of the Kali Age "'In these family quarrels that have flared up among ourselves, why do you intrude, Kṛṣṇa? However much the Pāṇḍavas are kin to you, the Kauravas too are just as much, are they not? Now what special reason is there for you to go about on the Pāṇḍava side wearing this band of authority?' — when Duryodhana, Duśśāsana and the others asked this in Dhṛtarāṣṭra's court, recall for a moment what Kṛṣṇa said that day," said Sahadeva. Stepping briskly, bristling like a lion cub, Kṛṣṇa had said: "Duryodhana! What did you say? Are the Kauravas the equals of the Pāṇḍavas? Never, not at any time, are they! I shall tell you the bond between them and me; listen. Of this body, Dharmaja is like the head, its chief part; Arjuna is like the arms; Bhīma is like the belly; Nakula and Sahadeva are like the two feet; and the heart within such a body is this Kṛṣṇa! Do you understand? Without the Heart the Limbs Are Lifeless It is by virtue of the heart that the limbs each do their own work; but without the heart the limbs are lifeless!" So the Paramātma roared. If we remember that — since the heart has gone, within a little while these Pāṇḍavas, who are its limbs, will also become lifeless and fall to ruin. Therefore, for all of us

the end is drawing near. The Lord, whose svarūpa is Time, is eager to merge us too into Himself. We must stand fully prepared, awaiting His call; there is no escaping it. No further proof is needed that Kali has entered than this. On the very day Kṛṣṇa left the world, with that day the doors of the Dvāpara age were closed and the doors of Kali were opened. Otherwise, could these evil forces, these wicked minds, roam about so unchecked? That Arjuna — who by nature could never forget a mantra even at the time a battle was raging most fiercely — should, in a time of danger, let the most vital mantra slip into forgetfulness: this is nothing but the potency of Kali, which is the great Māyā! Meanwhile Nakula came up and said: "Brothers! The hour before dawn is approaching. Let us quickly make this news known to the queens of the inner palace and to our revered mother, and decide the right course for the efforts we must make from here on. When the life-breath departs, the body does not fall to ruin immediately, does it? Just so, the moment Kṛṣṇa, who was as dear to us as our own life, went to His own abode, the sons of Pāṇḍu, who are the body's limbs, became lifeless. For them to fall to ruin, a little time is needed. We too are only going to that Vāsudeva's presence, today or tomorrow. So, instead of grieving idly, let us see to the safeguards fitting for our path — come, rise!" All agreed to the counsel that Nakula offered with intense Vairāgya. They considered for a while what would become of Draupadī, Subhadrā and their aged mother if this news were told in the inner palace. "Come what may, so be it — when Kṛṣṇa Himself has gone, what purpose is there in these alone remaining?" — so they all made up their minds, and decided it would be best for Dharmaja, the eldest son, to go to their mother and tell her.

A time of happiness passes in a minute. But a time of sorrow never passes at all. It towers up like mountains, impassable, overwhelming as the pralaya. Although Dharmaja's capital was Indraprastha, since all the elders had perished in the Mahābhārata war he kept the throne in Hastināpura. Some days in Indraprastha, other days in Hastināpura — in this way Dharmaja used to spend his time. Not knowing this, Arjuna took the remaining women of Dvārakā and came to Indraprastha; learning there that Dharmaja was not there, he settled the servants he had brought and the remaining women of the Yadu clan in Indraprastha itself, and came alone to Hastināpura. However, the one man remaining among the Yādavas was Vajra, Kṛṣṇa's only grandson; Arjuna brought him along with him. As for Vajra's state: grief that "we could not defeat the forest cowherds nor protect the helpless women, did we not" — that grief, and the pain of what had happened, brought on in him a dejection of mind; and, with no wish to show his face to anyone, he took to living in dark rooms. At the News of Kṛṣṇa's Passing, Kuntī Gives Up Her Life Queen Kuntī heard through a maidservant that very night that Arjuna had come from Dvārakā to Hastināpura; and, intent on the hope that at any minute her son Arjuna might come, tell her the news of Dvārakā and gladden her, she did not put out the lamps, did not sleep, and at any small sound, under the illusion that Arjuna had perhaps come, she would call out, "My dear! Arjuna!" When no one answered, she would call her maid by name: "Well now! Did you not tell me Arjuna had come from Dvārakā? Even after so long he still has not come to see me? You must have seen someone and taken him for Arjuna. If it had truly been Arjuna himself who came,

would he have stayed away from me so long?" With such anxious eagerness Queen Kuntī too kept vigil the whole of that …. Day was breaking. Everyone, wherever they were, was taking up their own tasks. Meanwhile a change came over Queen Kuntī's mind. "If it is true that Arjuna came in the night, what could be the reason for his not coming to me? Was there some matter needed in governing, and, as he talked with all the brothers and the hour grew late, did he lie down, worn out from the journey, thinking he could see his mother at daybreak? Or had some mishap occurred in Dvārakā, and, on account of it, had Vāsudeva sent him to speak with his elder brother for urgent business, so that he forgot me in that work?" Thus sunk in many kinds of speculation, and thinking he might perhaps come as soon as it was light, she rose before the darkness had lifted, completed her bath and the other morning rites, and waited for Arjuna's coming. Meanwhile another thought newly struck Kuntī. Namely: at night, at the time of going to bed, all her sons, one after another, would come, bow at their mother's feet, take her leave and go to bed. That day not even one of the five had come — and at this her distress grew even greater. Then, when she sent maidservants with word to Draupadī's quarters and to Subhadrā's quarters, word came back that none of the brothers had come even for the night meal. Queen Kuntī's heart sank further. As she pondered with such thoughts, an old maidservant came and told Queen Kuntī that Dharmaja was coming, accompanied by Arjuna. In Queen Kuntī — fear on one side of what news they would bring, joy on the other that after so long she was seeing her son — all these became one, and she appeared to tremble with some nameless dread.

Just then Dharmaja came in, bowed to his mother and stood there. Seeing that Arjuna had fallen at his mother's feet and did not rise for some time, Kuntī, saying, "My dear! How did you manage so long away from me, my boy?", kissed Arjuna's head; and even before speaking a blessing, even before asking after his welfare, she began: "My dear! I heard that you came last night itself. Is this true? If it is true, why did you not come to me that very night? How can a mother who knows her son has come after a long time bear not to see him? Never mind — at least now you have come early. I am very happy. In Dvārakā, your aunts, uncles, grandfathers — are they all well, are they not? My brother Vasudeva must have grown very old. Is he still getting about? Or, like me, is he having everything done for him right there on his bed?" So she spoke and, taking Arjuna's hands and looking at his face: "What is this, my dear? Why have you grown so dark? Why are your eyes swollen? Is Dvārakā near, after all? The roads are dusty roads, forest roads. The fatigue of the journey must be great. Never mind! But what did our Śyāmasundara send word to tell me? When does He say He will come? Has He no longing to see me? But what is that to Him? He is Vāsudeva! From right there He can see everyone. The bonds of longing to see Him are only for people like us, are they not! When shall I see Him again? Until He comes, will this ripe old body hold on, or drop away!" So she kept talking, supplying the questions and the answers all herself, giving neither Arjuna nor Dharmaja any interval in which to speak. From Arjuna's eyes tears were flowing unbidden, unchecked. Seeing this strange sight, Queen Kuntī drew him still closer, laid Arjuna's head on her shoulder and said: "My dear! What has happened, my darling? Never once have I seen you fill your eyes with tears! Oh! Tell me what calamity has happened, so terrible that you shed tears. Did Gopāla perhaps

scold you, saying, 'You cannot stay with me,' and send you away? Or has some other calamity occurred?" As she, absorbed in inquiring into the matter, was consoling him, Dharmaja covered his face with both hands and said: "Mother! Is there still a Vāsudeva of ours? It is coming to ten days today since He parted from us. He has gone, they say, to His own abode! All the Yādavas, they say, have died!" Even as he was saying this, Queen Kuntī, her eyes flying open, cried: "What? My Gopāla… my son of Nanda… the treasure of my heart — has He made this world a widow? Hā Kṛṣṇa!" — and, as if to say she would go and search out where He had gone and come back, in that very moment Kuntī gave up her life.

In plain words

16. Parīkṣit's Boundless Kṛṣṇa-Bhakti To whatever land King Parīkṣit went, the kings and emperors of each of those lands would wholeheartedly offer him honours befitting each one's own rank — even military salutes — and would submit to the king that, in whatever way their help might be wanted, they stood ready at all times. The king, for his part, would say that he had no need whatever of their help, and gave them this command alone: that in their own kingdoms they should give the people happiness and peace, hold the protection of the Veda, of cows and Brahmins, and of women as their chief goal, and carry out the worship of God. That itself, he would say, was the help they could render him, and an invaluable one; and he was glad of it. In certain principal kingdoms they would sing songs of the fame of King Parīkṣit's forebears, and tell stories concerning the Pāṇḍavas. With ever greater surge of feeling they would tell of the grace with which Kṛṣṇa looked after the Pāṇḍavas, and of how much Bhakti and faith the Pāṇḍavas had as they worshipped Kṛṣṇa and held Him in their thoughts. Donning the costumes of Kṛṣṇa and Arjuna, they would also, now and then, stage in dramatic form the play-acting and doings of Kṛṣṇa Paramātma. Watching all this, Parīkṣit would shed tears without even knowing it. The sūtas, māgadhas and vandins, and the storytellers, perceiving that for the king the stories of Kṛṣṇa

and the Pāṇḍavas were exceedingly dear to listen to, and having found this out, they gave up other stories, and wherever he went they held only sessions of storytelling of this kind. The king did not merely listen and rejoice at that alone. Hearing from the ministers and gurus that these were entirely true, he listened with still deeper faith, looked upon those who sang with great friendliness, and would give them fitting rewards before going on his way. In this way word spread throughout the land that King Parīkṣit drank in the nectar of songs of Kṛṣṇa as his very life-breath, and those who had seen Kṛṣṇa Paramātma and the Pāṇḍavas with their own eyes and had moved among them would wait by the roadsides, longing to see Parīkṣit. One day, as he was returning from Mathurā, an old Brahmin was waiting on the road for a darśan of the king. The king saw the Brahmin and, as he was talking with him about his welfare, the old Brahmin said: 'Mahārāja! Long ago, when we went as ṛtviks to the aśvamedha yāga that your grandfather Dharmaja performed in the presence of Kṛṣṇa Paramātma, that great-souled Kṛṣṇa Paramātma asked after our welfare in just this way. Today your conversation brings back before my eyes Kṛṣṇa Paramātma's conversation of that day.' And with that, streams of tears flowed from his eyes. Hearing this, the king exclaimed, 'Ah! How blessed you are, Svāmī! To have held conversations with Kṛṣṇa, who is the Paramātma, in the sacrificial hall!' So saying, he took the upper cloth from his shoulder, spread it on the ground, asked him to be seated, and asked him to tell whatever accounts of the Paramātma he had himself experienced. Then the aged Brahmin said, 'Mahārāja! However much I try to forget the mistake I made unknowingly that day, I cannot; it is tearing at my heart' — and he wiped away his tears. Then the king, holding both his hands, entreated him with still greater humility: 'Svāmī! What mistake was it? If it is something fit for me to hear, please tell me and satisfy me.'

Kṛṣṇa Washes the Ṛtviks' Feet To that the Brahmin replied: 'Mahārāja! That day, as all of us, the ṛtviks consecrated for the yajña, having put on the garments of consecration, were entering the yajña hall, there at the main entrance of the hall stood Kṛṣṇa Paramātma: He had set a golden plate upon a golden stool, and was holding water in a golden pitcher in His own hands — oh! I cannot say it. Words will not come to my mouth.' And, holding back the grief that came in sob upon sob, he stopped speaking. Seeing the Brahmin break off at the crucial moment, King Parīkṣit, with still greater eagerness, begged him: 'What happened, Svāmī? Please tell me.' Seeing him plead so, the Brahmin went on: 'O King! What shall I say? He asked us ṛtviks to place our feet in that golden plate, and He washed the feet of each one of us, dried them with the upper cloth He wore on His shoulder, and sprinkled the water of our feet on His own head. Since I was the chief ṛtvik, He would ask me alone about every detail and learn it from me. And at last, on the day of the pūrṇāhuti, He appeared to all of us as the bearer of conch, discus and mace, and redeemed us. Parted from that Paramātma, remaining in this world in this aged body, my heart has been smouldering and smouldering in grief and melting into water; and to that heart of mine your darśan has come as a drinking-water booth comes to one wandering in the desert, and the burning has cooled.' So saying, he took both of King Parīkṣit's hands and was about to place on the king's head the akṣata he had brought wrapped in his upper cloth. Then King Parīkṣit said: 'Svāmī! I am blessed! Though I could not see Kṛṣṇa Paramātma, the feet that were worshipped by Him have come to me!' So saying, he fell at the Brahmin's feet and made a full prostration. Then he called the ministers and commanded them to seat the Brahmin in a palanquin, give him ample wealth, set him down at his own house in the village that was his home, and then return.