Indra spoke to the mother, recalling the miraculous event: “Your embryo was cut by me into seven parts, and from them seven boys arose. Even as each was further divided into seven, none perished.” He marveled at the astonishing outcome, understanding that such wonders were not merely his doing, but the result of worshiping the Supreme Person, whose grace brings about extraordinary success. He reflected further, “Those who worship the Lord, desiring nothing, are remembered as truly wise, even if they do not seek anything further; but those who seek only their own benefit are not so.” Indra pondered, “Who, being wise, would choose contact with material qualities, which leads even to hell, when one can worship the Lord who bestows the self, the Lord of the universe and one's own soul?” With humility, he addressed the mother, “Therefore, O Mother, you ought to forgive this great offense of mine, who am childish and base. By good fortune, your embryo has arisen again from death.” Śuka then narrated that, thus permitted and forgiven by her, Indra, pure-hearted and satisfied, bowed to her together with the Maruts and returned to heaven. “Thus,” he concluded, “all that you have asked me has been told—the auspicious birth of the Maruts. What more shall I tell you?” Meanwhile, Sūta described King Parīkṣit, deeply troubled, reflecting on a blameworthy act—not committed by himself, but feeling the burden nonetheless. He thought, “Alas, I have acted basely, like one unworthy, toward the sinless, the hiddenly powerful Brahmin.” He lamented, “Surely, because of my disrespect toward the godly, a great calamity, hard to overcome, will soon befall me. Let it come as it will, as expiation for my sin, so that I may never do such a thing again.” He prayed, “Today, may the fire of the angered Brahmin, which has been kindled against me, consume my kingdom, power, and vast treasury, for I, the unfortunate one, may never again harbor such evil thoughts toward Brahmins, gods, or cows.” As he pondered, he heard how the sage’s son had pronounced death upon him, by Takṣaka, the serpent. Parīkṣit considered this good, for he knew Takṣaka would bring detachment to one so attached. Resolutely, he renounced this world and the next, having weighed their worthlessness beforehand. He resolved to serve the feet of Kṛṣṇa, and sat down to fast by the immortal river, whose waters, mixed with the dust of Kṛṣṇa’s feet, are more purifying than the Ganges and sanctify all worlds and their rulers. He wondered, “Who, facing death, would not serve her?” Thus, the son of Pāṇḍu undertook the vow of fasting unto death at the bank of the Viṣṇu-pada, fixing his mind solely on Mukunda’s feet, with the resolve of a sage freed from all attachments. Great and noble sages, with their disciples, arrived at that place, purifying the world. Many came under the pretext of visiting holy sites, for the virtuous themselves sanctify the holy places. Among them were Atri, Vasiṣṭha, Cyavana, Śaradvān, Ariṣṭanemi, Bhṛgu, and Aṅgirā; Parāśara, the son of Gādhi, Rāma, Utathya, Indrapramada, Edhmavāha, Medhātithi, Devala, Ārṣṭiṣeṇa, Bhāradvāja, Gautama, Pippalāda; Maitreya, Aurva, Kavaṣa, Kumbhayoni, Dvaipāyana, and the venerable Nārada. Other distinguished deva-sages, brahma-sages, and royal sages arrived, along with Aruṇa and his companions. The king honored the assembled eminent descendants of sages, bowing his head in reverence. When they were comfortably seated, he offered his respects and, with a clear mind, approached them, standing before them with joined hands. He spoke, “Ah, among rulers, we are the most fortunate, for the greatest have shown us their gracious nature. The dynasty of kings, due to the impurity of neglecting the feet of brāhmaṇas, has been cast far away—alas, such blameworthy deeds. For me, the Supreme Lord of all, seeing my mind repeatedly attached to household affairs, has caused a sense of detachment, rooted in the words of the twice-born, where attachment quickly brings fear.” He requested, “O brāhmaṇas, may you remain with me, who has approached, and may the goddess Gaṅgā, with my mind fixed upon the Lord. Whether by the curse of a brāhmaṇa or by the snake Takṣaka, let it happen; meanwhile, sing the glories of Viṣṇu. May there again be devotion and attachment to the infinite Lord, and to those who take refuge in Him; wherever I am born among the noble, may there always be friendship, and I bow to the brāhmaṇas everywhere.” Thus, the king, resolute in his decision, sat facing north on the eastern bank, upon a bed of kuśa grass, steadfast, having placed the burden of his own wife and son with the ocean’s daughter. As he sat in fasting, the hosts of gods in heaven praised him; they scattered flowers upon the earth with joy, and drums resounded again and again. The great sages who had assembled praised and approved his actions, saying, “His conduct is for the welfare of the people, and is adorned by the virtues of the Lord, praised by the highest.” They remarked, “Nor is it remarkable, O foremost of royal sages, among those devoted to Kṛṣṇa, that they, who once occupied the throne adorned with the royal crown, immediately renounced it, desiring only the Lord’s presence.” They resolved, “All of us shall remain here today, until he abandons his body; then this foremost devotee of the Lord will attain the supreme world, free from passion and sorrow.” Hearing the words of the assembly of sages, Parīkṣit, along with Madhucyuda, his teacher, and without fault, addressed them, greeting those who were present, eager to hear the deeds of Viṣṇu. He said, “All have gathered here from every direction, as the Vedas take form in the three worlds; here or elsewhere, there is no purpose except the supreme welfare and the nature of the self. Therefore, I ask you, O brāhmaṇas, what should be done, trusting in your guidance; for those who are dying, what is the pure duty, and let those who are engaged deliberate upon it.” At that moment, the son of Vyāsa, the venerable Śuka, arrived there by chance, wandering the earth without expectation. His signs were unrecognizable, content in his own gain, surrounded by children, wearing the garb of a mocker. He was in his sixteenth year, with tender feet, hands, thighs, arms, shoulders, and cheeks; his limbs graceful, his eyes large and elongated, his ears equal to his raised nostrils, his brows beautiful, his face radiant, and his neck well-formed like a conch. His collarbones were hidden, his chest broad and high, his navel deep and whorled, his belly marked with lines and softly rounded. Unclothed, his hair spread over his face, his arms long and hanging, resembling the best among gods. His complexion was dark, his youthful beauty ever fresh, his limbs marked by auspicious signs; with a charming smile, he captivated the minds of women. Even the sages, though knowing his true nature, rose from their seats to honor him, for his greatness was concealed. Viṣṇurāta, Parīkṣit, offered worship with bowed head to that honored guest who had arrived. As the ignorant women and children withdrew, Śuka was seated with honor upon the great seat. There, surrounded by the great ones—assemblies of Brahmarṣis, Rājarṣis, and Devarṣis—the illustrious sage shone brilliantly, just as the moon shines surrounded by hosts of planets, stars, and constellations. The king, a devotee of the Lord, approached the sage, who sat peacefully, his wisdom undiminished. Bowing his head with folded hands, he offered respectful words and inquired with gentle speech: “O brāhmaṇa, today we, mere kṣatriyas, have become worthy of service, for by your mercy, you have come as a guest and made our land holy. By remembering you, the houses of men are instantly purified—what then can be said of seeing you, touching you, washing your feet, or offering you a seat and so on?