Chapter 1: The Passage of Time

The soft strains of music filled the air as the special presentation began: Times of the Past. The scene was set, and the story of an ancient age unfolded.

"Will the cycle of time stop, O Lord?" a voice questioned, echoing through the ages.

A chilling curse followed, "I curse you. One day, your family will be destroyed before your eyes, Krishna."

The tale of Krishna's family was one of consequences. "Your family will have to face the consequences of your daring actions. The Pandavas, who have righteousness on their side, have won," the voice continued.

A figure stepped forward, raising a hand in warning. "Stop, sinner! You have become too bold. Today, I will send you home."

The music swelled, inviting listeners to delve into the stories of Krishna, drawn from the great texts, the Shrimad Bhagavatam and the Garg Samhita, penned by the sage Vedavyasa. The tale was of the disappearance of Lord Krishna. "Hari Om," the narrator intoned, as the music faded.

Acharyadev, a wise and learned sage, had just taken leave from the great Krishna and was setting off towards the Himalayas. A question lingered in the air, "What happened next, Lord? Is it time for Krishna to depart?"

The Dwapar Yuga was nearing its end. The gods from heaven descended to request Krishna to conclude his divine play. "King, the days of sorrow are approaching," they warned.

King Parikshit, full of curiosity, addressed his teacher. "Acharyadev, I have a question in my mind."

Acharyadev nodded, "What is your question, Parikshit?"

Parikshit spoke earnestly, "Acharyadev, I have heard from the sages that the body of God is not like ours. It is not made of the five elements: earth, water, fire, air, and space. Narayana's body is eternal and full of bliss."

"You are absolutely right, King," Acharyadev replied. "If that body is eternal and indestructible, then how can Krishna die? How did he end his divine play, Acharyadev?"

Acharyadev smiled, impressed by Parikshit's insight. "Well said, Parikshit! You truly have the knowledge of the truth in your heart, King. You have glimpsed what even great scholars find hard to understand. Do you know what God has said? 'My birth and actions are both divine. Whoever understands this truth will attain me after death.' I have no doubt, Parikshit, that after you leave this world, you will reach the abode of God, King. There can be no other outcome for you."

"If even a tiny bit of true knowledge has awakened in my heart, Lord, it is because of your grace," Parikshit acknowledged. "It is only possible through the unasked blessings of the teachers."

Acharyadev nodded, appreciating the young king's humility. "Your humility and modesty are truly beautiful, Parikshit. Listen, King, I will tell you openly, it is said that Arjuna cremated Krishna's body after his death. Know for sure, King, that this body was an illusory body. God does not always reveal his true glory to those who turn away from him. He keeps them confused with illusion. This was also such an illusion."

"Do you know the real truth?" Acharyadev continued. "Lord Krishna did not die, dear king. No, it cannot be. Just like the sun is always present in the sky, so is the Lord. When people cannot see the sun, they say it has set. Yes, king, in the same way, when the Lord goes out of sight, from visible to invisible, some ignorant people say he has died. But that is not true, king. The Lord is just hidden. He is always there. He is eternal, beyond the cycle of time. King, all of this is beyond us."

Parikshit listened intently, his mind filled with wonder. "He is a great mystery, dear teacher. Please explain it in simple words..."

Acharyadev leaned in, his voice gentle yet firm. "Listen carefully, dear king."

Meanwhile, somewhere else, a conversation between two divine brothers unfolded. "Brother, it's time to end this game. We must keep the words of the devotees. Also, the age of Kali is coming soon. It must have its place in the course of time. Are you ready?" one brother asked.

The other replied with concern, "Brother, everyone takes advantage of your kindness. Did the age of Kali make you promise something?"

"Brother, during the battle of Kurukshetra, it came to me in disguise, begging for mercy. Lord Narayan, the end of the Dvapara Yuga is near. But as long as you are on this earth, I cannot fully exert my influence in this world. Will the cycle of time stop, Lord?" the first brother recounted.

A divine promise was given, "No, Kali Yuga, do not worry. The cycle of time will continue as it should. After I return to Vaikuntha, you will have the chance to fully exert your influence on this earth. I promise you."

The age of Kali, pleased, responded, "I am blessed, Lord, glory to you."

A shadow of concern crossed the brother's face, "So, this is your plan. What will happen to our great Yadu dynasty and the vast city of Dwarka? Have you forgotten the curse of the sages?"

The brother explained, "Brother, my son Samba was disguised as a pregnant woman by the young men of Dwarka and taken to the sages. They wanted to test the truth of their divine vision. As a result, they received a terrible curse."

The tale was set, and the events of the past began to unfold, with the cycle of time continuing its eternal dance.

Chapter 2: The Gathering Storm

The sages' voices echoed in the assembly hall, their words heavy with foreboding. "You wanted to test our ability to foresee the future," one sage declared, his eyes piercing through the gathering. "Did you think we wouldn't realize that this person is neither pregnant nor a woman? Your audacity will bring ruin to your dynasty. The iron rod hidden in the cloth will be the cause of the Yadu dynasty's destruction. This is our curse."

The air in the hall was tense, and the gravity of the curse weighed heavily upon everyone present. Yet, a voice rose to challenge the despair. "But Kanai," the voice said, "that iron rod is no longer with the sages of Dwarka. On your orders, it was ground down and thrown into the sea. Whatever was left was also cast into the sea."

A brother turned to his sibling, his eyes searching for reassurance. "So, you have heard, brother. Where it all happened, tall grass has grown by the sea. But what of it? You will see when the time comes, brother."

The mention of Queen Gandhari's curse brought a shadow over Krishna's face. He remembered the sorrowful day after the Kurukshetra war, when Gandhari, driven mad with grief over her sons' deaths, had laid a curse upon him. "Krishna, you could have stopped this terrible war if you wanted to. But you let this destruction happen. You have destroyed my family. I am Gandhari, the queen of the Kuru dynasty. I curse you. One day, your own family will be destroyed right before your eyes."

Krishna's voice was calm as he replied, "Mother Gandhari, you have spent your whole life in meditation. The words that came out of your mouth as a curse will surely come true. I know this. Please be calm. Remember, you never blessed your son Duryodhana with victory. Every time he came to seek your blessings, you always said, 'May righteousness prevail.' Do you remember that, Mother? The Pandavas, who stood for righteousness, have won."

Gandhari's eyes softened, her memory clouded by time and sorrow. "And today, you will forget what you said, I am sure," Krishna continued. "Krishna, your ways are hard to understand."

Meanwhile, the people of Dwaraka were restless. Nightmares haunted their sleep, and signs of trouble appeared everywhere. "Please find a way to calm them," a voice pleaded. "This family has no future but destruction, brother. The age of Kali is coming. They will perish fighting among themselves. This is the will of fate. Still, since you ask, I will reassure them. Arrange a meeting tomorrow. I will speak then."

The assembly hall of Sudharma was filled with the important people of Dwaraka. Krishna stood before them, his presence commanding attention. "Greetings to everyone," he began. "I see all the important people of Dwaraka are present. You know that for some time now, signs of trouble have been appearing in Dwaraka, causing fear in everyone's hearts. Therefore, I propose that you all go on a pilgrimage immediately and arrange prayers to the gods. We will bathe in the holy waters of the Saraswati River, fast, and worship the gods with various rituals. You know that serving the gods, Brahmins, and cows removes all fears of misfortune. So, we will follow that path. The Brahmins of the holy land will pray for the peace of our Yadu dynasty. We will generously reward them. Do you all agree with my proposal?"

The assembly murmured in agreement, their voices rising in a chorus of approval. "Yes, yes, it is an excellent proposal. Yes, we agree. Well done, Vasudeva. I will arrange boats for everyone to go to Prabhasa today," someone offered.

"Good, let it be so," Krishna said. "But everyone must be careful about one thing. Otherwise, danger will be near."

"What is it?" a concerned voice asked.

"You are going to Prabhasa to serve the gods. No one should indulge in drinking or any indecent activities. If this is not followed, then great danger will come. I will not be able to protect you then. Will you remember this?"

"Of course, of course," they promised.

"Good, then today's meeting is concluded. Greetings to everyone."

As the assembly dispersed, a young man named Parikshit approached, his face clouded with worry. "What is it, Parikshit? Why do you look so sad?" Krishna asked gently.

"Lord, it feels like the end is near, doesn't it? The final moments of the Lord's play have arrived."

Krishna nodded solemnly. "Yes, absolutely. The end of the Yadu dynasty is near, O King. The divine form of Lord Krishna is like a precious jewel to his devotees. How will they bear the pain if he disappears from the world? My Lord, I have heard from you that once the maidens of Braj saw Krishna, they couldn't take their eyes off him. They would gaze at his beautiful, charming face with complete devotion."

The hall, now empty of the crowd, seemed to echo with the weight of destiny's approach.

Chapter 3: The Fall of the Yadavas

The hall was silent, bearing witness to the unfolding drama of fate. Parikshit listened intently, his eyes wide with the weight of the words spoken by Acharyadev. The sage's voice was gentle yet firm as he continued to unravel the tale of Krishna and his devotees.

"Yes, Parikshit," Acharyadev began, a soft smile playing on his lips. "Sometimes the maidens of Braj felt so unsatisfied with their two eyes that they would even complain about the Creator. 'Why,' they would wonder, 'did he not give us millions of eyes to gaze upon Krishna? And even these two blink so often! How can we ever be satisfied seeing Krishna like this?'"

Parikshit nodded, imagining the devotion of the maidens. "Acharyadev, it seems that just hearing about Krishna is enough to captivate hearts."

"Indeed," Acharyadev agreed, his eyes twinkling with the memory of those tales. "You don't even need to see Krishna in person. His beauty, his qualities, and his playful acts are enough to fill every thought, day and night. Many poets write about various subjects, but no poetry is as delightful as that which speaks of Krishna. Is there any song greater than one that sings of his sweet pastimes?"

Parikshit leaned forward, his curiosity piqued. "How will his devotees cope with Krishna's absence, Acharyadev? What will they rely on?"

Acharyadev's expression grew solemn. "When Krishna is not visibly present, he stays with his devotees through sacred images. Those who see these images as mere wood or stone do not receive the Lord’s grace. But those who worship with heartfelt devotion find that the Lord himself appears to them. He talks, plays, and shares joys and sorrows with them. Such is the Lord’s boundless grace."

"But we are in the age of Kali," Parikshit replied, a hint of worry in his voice. "Very few people have the skill and purity needed to serve sacred images properly. How can they be with Krishna?"

Acharyadev smiled reassuringly. "In the age of Kali, the best way to practice devotion is through the name of Krishna. The name and God himself are one and the same. The Lord has placed all his power in his name. What can’t the name give to a devotee? Through its power, one can achieve all spiritual success. Blessed is the one who practices the name of Krishna in this age."

Parikshit felt a wave of relief wash over him. "You have taken away all my fears, my Lord. So, are you ready to tell us what happened next?"

Acharyadev nodded, his eyes reflecting the gravity of the tale he was about to unfold. "Yes, listen then. When the Yadavas went to Prabhas, they did not follow Krishna's advice. You see, when people live under the protection of a powerful hero for a long time, they sometimes get confused. They start thinking they can do whatever they want and stop respecting the one who has protected them."

Parikshit listened, captivated by the unfolding drama. "Did the Yadavas get involved in something wrong, Teacher?"

"Exactly," Acharyadev confirmed. "Instead of focusing on worshiping the goddess at Prabhas, they ignored Krishna's warning and began drinking wine. Wine clouds the mind and makes people act foolishly. Drunk, they started fighting among themselves."

The air in the hall seemed to crackle with tension as Acharyadev recounted the heated words exchanged among the Yadavas.

"Hey, Kritavarma," one voice sneered, "who else in this world is as wicked as you? You call yourself a warrior? You're a coward. I can't stand the sight of you."

Another voice, filled with anger, retorted, "Watch your mouth, Satyaki, or I'll chop your head off with one swing of my sword."

"Really? You'll chop off my head?" Satyaki challenged. "Aren't you ashamed? When our revered Lord Krishna sided with the Pandavas in the Kurukshetra war, why did you choose Duryodhana's side? Are you a human or a monster?"

Kritavarma's voice was cold as he replied, "Everyone has the freedom to choose their side, Satyaki. Not everyone is a coward like you, who blindly follows whatever Vasudeva says out of fear."

Satyaki's voice was sharp with accusation. "You think I'm a coward? And what about you sneaking into the Pandavas' camp with Ashwatthama on the last night of the war? You killed sleeping warriors without giving them a chance to defend themselves. You spared no one—not the elephants, horses, charioteers, or cooks. What wrong did they do?"

Kritavarma's face was set in a hard line. "I did what I did, and I don't regret it. Who are you to judge me?"

The hall was heavy with silence, the echoes of their heated words lingering in the air.

The air was thick with tension; it was as if the very walls of the hall held their breath. Kritavarma's eyes narrowed as he glared at Satyaki, his voice dripping with disdain. "You set fire to the Pandavas' camp and burned so many innocent people to death. And you say you don't regret it, sir."

Satyaki's face flushed with anger. "Hey, Kritavarma," he shot back, "didn't you grab the unarmed Bhurishrava by the hair and behead him? And now you're lecturing me? You think you're so righteous!"

The hall seemed to shudder with the weight of their accusations, each word a stone cast into a lake of simmering rage. Kritavarma's voice was low and dangerous. "Is there no end to your sins? Who whispered in Shatadhanva's ear to kill our dear Satyabhama's father? Wasn't it you? You think no one knows."

Satyaki's eyes blazed. "You wicked man! You've got a lot of nerve. Today, I'll send you to the land of the dead."

Kritavarma's lips curled in a sneer. "Come on, let's see who sends whom to the land of the dead."

Without another word, the two men lunged at each other, their swords singing through the air. The clash of metal echoed through the hall as Satyaki, with a swift and powerful strike, cut off Kritavarma's head. But the victory was short-lived. Kritavarma's friends, furious and seeking revenge, surrounded Satyaki, raining blows upon him.

Seeing his friend in peril, Pradyumna, the son of Krishna and Rukmini, rushed to Satyaki's aid. But even his valor was not enough to turn the tide. In the chaos, Pradyumna fell, slain by his own kin.

Krishna, witnessing the death of his beloved son, felt a storm of fury rise within him. The sage's prophecy came to life as he grabbed a handful of eraka grass from the seashore. In his grasp, the grass transformed into a massive iron club. With a mighty heave, Krishna hurled the club at Pradyumna's killer, and the man fell dead to the ground.

But the madness was not yet over. The crowd, intoxicated and irrational, turned their wrath towards Krishna. "Curse this Vasudeva, curse him!" they shouted, their voices a cacophony of anger.

"What has Krishna done for us?" one man jeered. "He spent all his time in Indraprastha with his cousins. Has he ever thought about our progress?"

Another voice rang out in defense of Krishna. "What are you saying? Are you so ungrateful? Anyone who speaks ill of Krishna will have their tongue torn out."

The tension snapped like a bowstring. "Oh really? Then die. Come on, fight!"

In an instant, chaos erupted. The Yadava warriors snatched handfuls of eraka grass, each blade transforming into an iron club in their hands. Brothers turned on brothers, friends struck down friends, and fathers cursed their sons. In their drunken haze, they destroyed each other, and the sacred ground of Prabhas ran red with their blood.

With a heavy heart, Krishna turned away from the carnage, his spirit burdened by the destruction of his people. He walked along the seashore, searching for his brother. "Where was Balarama?" he wondered aloud, the question a whisper to the restless waves.

In a quiet spot by the sea, Krishna found him. Lord Balarama sat serenely, his body still and his mind focused in deep meditation. His eyes were closed, and his breath was steady. As Krishna watched, a massive white serpent with a thousand hoods emerged from Balarama's mouth, gliding gracefully towards the sea.

At that moment, Lord Varuna, the ruler of the waters, appeared with his followers, a silent witness to the unfolding divine play. The music of the waves played softly in the background, a gentle requiem for the end of an era.

Chapter 4: The Divine Departure

As the massive white serpent with a thousand hoods vanished into the depths, Lord Varuna, the ruler of the waters, bowed deeply, his voice filled with reverence. "O Lord of the Serpents, I bow to you," he declared. "Today, your divine play on Earth has reached its end, and I am blessed to witness this moment. May Varuna's day be blessed. Under your protection, we gods peacefully maintain the three worlds."

"So be it," came the calm reply from the great serpent before he and his followers disappeared into the ether.

Krishna, watching from the shore, understood that his own time to leave this world was drawing near. With a heavy heart, he turned from the sea and walked into a nearby forest, where the air was still and the sunlight danced through the leaves. There, under the shade of a grand peepal tree, he sat down, contemplating the moments that had led him here.

Meanwhile, the wheel of fate continued to turn. The last piece of an iron club, thrown into the sea, had been swallowed by a fish. Days later, a fisherman caught this fish, and a hunter named Jara bought it. When Jara cut open the fish, he discovered the iron piece and fashioned it into the tip of an arrow, never imagining the role it would soon play.

As Krishna rested beneath the peepal tree, Jara was nearby, chasing a deer. Mistaking Krishna’s foot for a deer's head, he released his arrow. The moment the arrow struck, Jara rushed forward, expecting to find his quarry, but instead, he found Krishna, the jewel of the Yadavas, lying wounded.

Realizing his grave mistake, Jara fell to his knees, tears streaming down his face. "Lord, what have I done?" he cried. "I have wounded Vasudeva, the greatest man in India, with my arrow. I am not even worthy to ask for forgiveness. Punish me, Lord, punish me."

Krishna, with a serene smile, replied gently, "Do not cry, hunter, do not cry. This was all part of my plan. You are merely an instrument in this event. The curse of the sages will not be in vain."

"Lord," Jara asked, his voice trembling, "I have heard the sages say you are God himself. For the sin of hurting you, will I go to hell, Lord? What will happen to me?"

"No, Jara," Krishna reassured him. "Your destination is not hell. You will go to heaven for being part of my divine play. And as for your descendants, in the coming age of Kali, your people will be my helpers in service."

"What is that place, Lord?" Jara asked, hope flickering in his eyes. "Brahmins have always served the gods. Will the Sabara people ever have that honor?"

Krishna's voice was soft yet firm. "That place is in the eastern part of India. It is called Shreekhetra, also known by many names like Neelachal and Shankha. In the coming age of Kali, I will reside with my brother Balarama and sister Subhadra on the jewel platform of the Shree Temple. Then, I will be known as Purushottama Jagannath. In that temple, both Brahmins and the Sabara people will serve me. People will call them Daityapati."

"So, will there be no caste differences in that place, Lord?" Jara inquired, his heart filled with the possibility of unity.

"In that place, my holy offering, Mahaprasad, will be shared by people of all castes together," Krishna explained. "There will be no strict rules about purity or leftovers. Brahmins will accept the Mahaprasad from the hands of even the lowest caste, the Chandala, and place it on their heads with respect."

Jara bowed his head in reverence. "Blessed are you, Lord, blessed is your greatness."

With Krishna's reassurance, Jara left the forest peacefully, his heart at ease. Meanwhile, Krishna's charioteer, Daruka, was searching for him, his chariot marked with a flag of a bull. As he rode along the shores of Prabhas, he was met with a scene of devastation—piles of bodies and sand stained red with blood.

"Oh God," Daruka cried out, "I have been searching for the Lord. Where has he gone? Lord, Lord, Vasudeva, where are you? Can you hear me, Lord?"

As he wandered, he caught the sweet fragrance of tulsi from Krishna’s garland. His heart leapt with hope. "Are you here somewhere, Lord?"

What Daruka saw next left him speechless with wonder. In that quiet forest, under the shade of the peepal tree, he beheld Krishna, radiant and serene, a vision of miraculous glory.

Daruka stood frozen, awe-struck by the divine vision before him. He saw a magnificent four-armed figure seated under the shade of a grand banyan tree. The being's skin shimmered like a dark, stormy cloud, and each of his four hands held a sacred object—a conch, a discus, a mace, and a lotus flower. His body was adorned with brilliant ornaments, and a garland of forest flowers hung gracefully around his neck, casting a radiant glow that lit up the entire grove.

With reverence, Daruka descended from his chariot and knelt before this supreme being. "Lord," he said, his voice filled with devotion and awe, "I have served you for so long. I have witnessed your many miraculous glories. But today, the form you have shown me is incomparable. Lord, you are the Lord of Vaikuntha. I understand you are returning there."

As Daruka spoke, something extraordinary began to unfold. The chariot he had brought, marked by its distinctive bull flag, began to rise into the sky, lifting effortlessly from the earth. Before his very eyes, it vanished into the clouds, taking its four noble horses with it. In that moment, two beams of light emerged from Lord Krishna's hands, transforming into divine forms right before him.

One of the forms spoke, "Lord, I am your servant Sudarshan. I bow to you. You brought me to earth from Vaikuntha to be part of your play. I am blessed by this fortune, Lord."

Another voice followed, "What is your command for your servant, Lord?"

A third form, the mighty mace, added, "Lord, please accept the bow of your servant, the Kaumodaki mace. I came to earth to serve you. What is your command for your servant now, Lord?"

Krishna, with a gentle smile, addressed them all. "Hello, Sudarshan and Kaumodaki, you are the most important among all my weapons. Because you were with me, my dear servants Jaya and Vijaya were able to defeat the demons forever. The serpents have been freed. My time on Earth is coming to an end. You should return to Vaikuntha and wait for me there. Take my other weapons with you too."

"As you wish, Lord," they replied in unison.

Bowing low, the divine forms ascended gracefully into the sky, beginning their journey back to Vaikuntha. Daruka, witnessing these wonders, felt both amazed and humbled by everything he had seen. Then, Lord Krishna turned to him, his gaze tender and filled with wisdom.

"Dear Daruka," Krishna said, "go back to Dwaraka. Tell my family there that the Yadu clan has come to an end. Balarama and I have returned to the divine abode. Tell them that when Arjuna comes to take them, they should go to Indraprastha without any delay."

"Lord," Daruka pleaded, "your memories are everywhere in Dwaraka. Can't they stay there for a few more days? Do they really have to leave?"

"Yes, Daruka," Krishna replied gently, "this is my command. The sea god Varuna gave me this land to build the city. After I leave this world, he will gradually take it back. Dwaraka will sink into the sea. So, they must go to Indraprastha."

"As you command, Lord," Daruka said, bowing his head. "I have served you all my life, but I never imagined I would witness such a terrible event."

"Daruka, all of this is part of my divine plan," Krishna reassured him. "Follow the path of devotion as I have instructed. It will bring you peace in this life and the next. Do not delay, my child. Return to Dwaraka."

With tears in his eyes, Daruka circled around the Lord in a final act of devotion, bowed deeply, and set off on his journey back to Dwaraka. Realizing that the time for the Lord to leave for the divine abode was near, the heavens began to stir with activity.

In that sacred moment, the sky filled with the presence of the gods. Brahma, Shiva, and Indra arrived first. The wise grandfather Brahma, the great god Mahadeva, and the compassionate Goddess Parvati graced the scene. They were joined by a host of other deities, led by King Indra, and accompanied by sages, seers, and celestial musicians, dancers, and nymphs. Together, they began to chant praises for the Lord, their voices harmonizing in a divine chorus.

Seeing Brahma and the other gods, Krishna, with a serene smile, closed his beautiful lotus-like eyes and meditated on his true self.

Chapter 5: The Vanishing of Krishna

As the celestial gathering witnessed Lord Krishna with closed eyes, meditating upon his true self, an extraordinary event unfolded. Unlike the great yogis who leave their mortal bodies to the sacred flames, Krishna's divine form was eternal, untouched by the fires of the world. His body, filled with bliss, was an object of meditation for sages and devotees alike, never to fade away.

And then, in a moment as fleeting as a flash of lightning, Krishna vanished from the sight of all the assembled gods. Even the most powerful deities could not comprehend the mystery of his departure to his heavenly abode, Vaikuntha. The heavens erupted with the sound of drums, and a rain of fragrant flowers descended upon the earth. Brahma, Shiva, and the other gods sang his praises before returning to their celestial realms.

"Isn't Krishna's disappearance just as wondrous as his other divine acts?" mused a wise voice. "Indeed, it is," agreed another. "Consider, O King, the one who once retrieved his teacher's son from the world of the dead and who bested Lord Shiva in battle—how could such a being be defeated by a mere hunter's arrow?"

The king nodded, lost in thought. "I remember," he said softly. "I longed for him all my life, ever since I saw his four-armed form while still in my mother's womb. That longing kept me awake many nights. I can only imagine the sorrow of those who spent every day with him. How did Queen Rukmini bear such grief?"

The tale continued with Daruka's return to Dwaraka, bearing the sorrowful news of the Yadu dynasty's end. The city was awash in tears, and Arjuna arrived from Indraprastha to prepare funeral pyres by the sea. Many women of Dwaraka chose to join their husbands in death. Among them, Queen Rukmini and Queen Satyabhama were inconsolable.

"My heart breaks without him," Satyabhama confessed, "but I must fulfill my duties. What have you all decided? Will you come with me to Hastinapur?"

"No, brother Arjuna," Rukmini replied with a heavy heart. "He cherished me with love all his life. I cannot bear the palace without him. I have decided to go to the forest for penance. Sister, will you join me?"

"No," Rukmini replied with a sad determination. "Without him, the palace and the forest are the same to me. I will find no peace anywhere, Arjuna. Please, prepare a pyre for me by the sea. Do not stop me. I will follow my husband, my lifelong companion, wherever he has gone."

"Sister, your descendant Vajra will now be the leader of the Yadavas," Arjuna reminded her gently.

"You won't be there to see his coronation," Rukmini said. "But my blessings are always with him. Please bid me farewell with a calm heart. Sister, I could never love him the way you did, and I never will."

With heavy hearts, they parted ways—Rukmini to Vaikuntha to be with Krishna, and Satyabhama to the forest for penance. Arjuna returned to Indraprastha with a few survivors from Dwaraka, where the coronation of Vajra took place.

"Lord, I have a question in my mind," a voice interrupted. "Speak, King, what is your question?"

"King Yudhishthira is very wise. He has deeply understood the Vedas and other scriptures. Did he get any hint about the Lord returning to Vaikuntha?"

"Yes, he did, King. Listen to this."

As time passed, Yudhishthira grew anxious. Arjuna had been gone to Dwaraka for news of Krishna and had not returned. Meanwhile, Bhimasena approached him with worry etched on his face. "Have you noticed, brother? Crime in Hastinapur has increased a lot recently. Theft, robbery, kidnapping, fraud—everything seems to be rising day by day. Sage Narada said that the Kali Yuga is not far away. Could this be a sign of it?"

"Yes, Bhima, it seems so. But do you know what's more concerning? As long as Krishna is on Earth, the Kali Yuga cannot fully take over. That's why my heart is troubled, brother."

"What are you saying, brother? I can't sleep properly at night these days. Last night, a few dogs were howling so sadly. It breaks my heart to hear it. It's been so long since Arjuna went to Dwaraka, and there's no sign of his return. What could have happened?"

The brothers exchanged worried glances, the weight of the unknown pressing heavily upon them.

Chapter 6: The Omens and the Decision

The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows over the palace grounds as Yudhishthira and Bhima paced the courtyard, their expressions heavy with concern. The air was thick with an unspoken tension, a sense that something monumental was on the horizon.

"I went to the temple yesterday," Bhima said, breaking the silence between them. He looked troubled as he recounted his experience. "I got a bad omen there too. I saw the priests performing rituals, but despite pouring ghee repeatedly, the sacred fire kept going out. Then, when I went to the inner sanctum, I saw tears flowing from the idol's eyes. Who knows what terrible misfortune this indicates?"

Yudhishthira nodded gravely, his mind swirling with worry. Just then, Arjuna arrived. Yudhishthira noticed that although Arjuna greeted him as usual, his face was pale, and his eyes were filled with tears.

"Arjuna, why do you look so sad, brother?" Yudhishthira asked, his voice laced with concern. "Did someone insult you in Dwaraka? Did anyone say anything harsh?"

Arjuna shook his head, his voice breaking as he replied, "No, brother, who would dare insult me in Dwaraka? But Uncle Vasudeva has grown old. Is he well? Devaki, Rohini—they care for us like mothers. Are they all well?" His voice trembled with the weight of unspoken fears. "You know, I've been getting bad omens for a few days. Our lifelong friend Krishna—he hasn't left us, has he?"

Tears welled in Arjuna's eyes as he confessed the truth that had shattered his heart. "Krishna has left me, brother. He went to heaven without taking me along. Oh God, it was because Krishna was with me that I could burn the Khandava forest. Brother, Krishna is not here today. The splendor and beauty of Indraprastha mean nothing to me now. It feels like the whole world has turned dark. Krishna, Krishna is gone. So, what is the point of us staying in this world?"

Memories flooded Yudhishthira's mind. "Arjuna, do you remember in Magadha? During the wrestling match with Jarasandha, I couldn't defeat him in any way. It was then that Govinda tore a blade of grass to give me a hint. And in the battle of Kurukshetra, he helped me countless times. I know he is Lord Narayana himself, yet he graciously became the charioteer for this humble soul."

A deep silence enveloped them as the weight of Krishna's absence settled over their hearts. Finally, Yudhishthira spoke, his voice resolute. "Brother, what is the use of staying in this world without Krishna? Yes, Arjuna, you are right. It's time for me to retire too. I have been thinking for some time about giving the throne of Hastinapura to Abhimanyu's son, Parikshit, and going to meditate. He is now ready to be king. Bhima, Bhima, don't delay. Prepare for Parikshit's coronation."

The palace of Hastinapura was filled with deep sadness. For 36 years, the righteous King Yudhishthira had lovingly protected them like his own children, and now he was leaving his royal duties to go to the forest. I was very young then. I didn't understand the seriousness of the situation. I simply followed the orders of my elders. Yet, it seemed to me that before going on the great journey, Grandfather Arjuna had managed to overcome much of his deep sorrow. His face was calm and serene.

"Why is that, Lord?" I asked, unable to comprehend how Arjuna could find peace amidst the turmoil.

"You guessed it right, Parikshit," replied my teacher gently. "After making the decision, Arjuna was completely absorbed in thoughts of Krishna. He was thinking about those priceless teachings Krishna gave at the start of the Kurukshetra war. 'Oh Arjuna, dedicate your mind to me. Be my devotee. Worship me. Bow to me. You will surely come to me, without a doubt. Whoever is devoted to me will certainly find me. This is my promise. Abandon all other duties and surrender only to me. I will free you from all sins. Friend, do not grieve.'"

The teacher's words echoed in my mind, filling me with a sense of purpose and devotion. "This is what is called serving the Guru’s words. Do you understand, King, what serving the words means, Lord?"

I nodded, feeling the weight of his teachings. "Listen, when the Guru is physically present in front of the disciple, the disciple has the good fortune to serve him directly. This is called serving the body. Understood? And when the Guru is not present, when he is not in sight, should the service stop, King? No, not at all. The disciple should then serve the Guru's words. The disciple should constantly remember what the Guru taught and said, and try to act accordingly. Is it clear now, King?"

"Yes, Teacher, please bless me so that I never stray from your teachings."

The teacher smiled warmly. "Surely, you are a descendant of the great Arjuna, King. At the start of the Kurukshetra war, Arjuna surrendered to Krishna as his disciple. That is why Krishna is the teacher of the world, especially Arjuna's teacher, and we received the Bhagavad Gita."

As his words settled in my heart, I felt a deep connection with the past, a bond that transcended time, linking me to the wisdom of my ancestors. The music of the universe played softly in my mind, a reminder of the eternal teachings that would guide me through life.

Chapter 7: The Great Journey

The gentle rustle of leaves and the soft whisper of the wind seemed to carry the echoes of ancient tales as the Teacher began to speak once more. "Listen, King," he said with a voice that felt both old and wise, "let me tell you about Yudhishthira's great journey."

The King nodded eagerly, his curiosity piqued. "Yes, Teacher, please do," he implored, leaning forward as if to capture every word.

"After bidding farewell to all his friends," the Teacher continued, "Yudhishthira left his royal life behind. He removed his regal attire, exchanging it for the simple robes of a humble monk."

I could almost see Yudhishthira in my mind's eye—his royal robes replaced by plain cloth, stepping with bare feet onto the dusty path. "He began his journey towards the Himalayas in the north," the Teacher explained, his eyes distant as if he too could see the path unfolding.

"What was he thinking, Teacher?" the King asked, his voice filled with wonder.

The Teacher smiled softly. "He was thinking about the one and only Supreme Being, known in the Upanishads as the Supreme Brahman. That is Krishna, his friend. With thoughts of Krishna in his heart, Yudhishthira and his brothers continued their journey."

"And what did Queen Draupadi do?" the King asked, his eyes wide with intrigue.

"The brothers never left Yudhishthira's side in any situation," the Teacher replied. "So, at the end of their lives, they followed their elder brother's path. And Queen Draupadi, thinking of her friend Krishna, joined them. She, too, set out on the great journey."

The King leaned in closer, his voice barely a whisper. "Where did their journey end, Teacher?"

"Why, at Krishna's supreme abode, Vaikuntha," the Teacher said, his voice filled with reverence. "A place where there is no need for the sun, moon, fire, or any light. In that supreme place, reaching Vaikuntha means devotees do not have to return to the material world. King, in that supreme abode, they engaged in eternal service to God."

The King looked hopeful, his eyes shining with a mixture of longing and faith. "Will I also be able to go to that supreme abode, Teacher? Will I be able to see Lord Krishna again?"

"Certainly, you will," the Teacher assured him with a gentle smile. "Your dear friend Krishna is waiting for you."

As the Teacher's words filled the air,

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