The pious scholar Vidura gently cautioned the all-pervading Narayana, speaking with measured softness and grave concern. He declared that Duryodhana stood swollen with pride, supported by eleven akshauhinis prepared to fight on his behalf, and that he would now reveal the events awaiting Krishna upon his arrival. The Kauravas, he said, would not obey divine counsel, nor would they grant even the smallest share to the sons of Pandu, for their desire was to rule the entire kingdom without restraint.
Vidura continued that the kings assembled on Duryodhana’s side had already been defeated by the Pandavas and had sworn either to conquer them or to perish in battle. Though their vow bound them to their own pride, Duryodhana sought to exploit it and had drawn them into his faction. An alliance, Vidura warned, was impossible because of Duryodhana’s unyielding ego. The hour of reckoning for the Kauravas was drawing near, yet they indulged in provocative displays of warlike arrogance. He questioned how Krishna could sit among such wicked and senseless warriors and respond to their needless provocations.
He described them as bereft of true intellect, intoxicated by dreams of success, blinded by pride and foolish temper. Such men, he said, could not comprehend beneficial counsel, nor would their dull obstinacy allow them to answer sharp and penetrating reasoning. Acknowledging Krishna’s valour, capability, and glory, Vidura prayed out of reverence for the sons of Pandu that he should not enter that hall of deceit and treachery.
The Supreme Person replied with calm assurance, addressing Vidura with respect and affection. He said that he fully knew Vidura’s discernment and was aware of his wisdom, yet he must clearly state the purpose of his visit. He would act according to the response he received. He knew well the mischief of Duryodhana and the impiety of Karna, and he was aware that the kings were eager to avenge themselves upon the Pandavas and were resolved to fight unto death. He knew also that the proposal of alliance would be rejected, and he was prepared even for that outcome.
He observed that the earth itself, burdened by elephants and horses, was sliding toward the dreadful mouth of death. To remove ignorance, he said, was a meritorious act. If one undertakes a deed, whether good or ill, and it is obstructed for any reason, the fruit of that intention surely returns to the doer. This, he said, had been proclaimed by elders skilled in discerning the nature of virtue. Whether his counsel was accepted or rejected, he would still obtain the merit of righteous action.
He further explained that a person must strive earnestly to uphold righteousness, and even if he fails to complete the task or does not attain the desired result, he is nonetheless rewarded with merit. Of this established truth, he had no doubt. When enmity arises among kin, it must be resolved, even if struggle is involved, for those who make no attempt are condemned by the wise as cruel in conduct. Therefore, he would attempt reconciliation between the Kuru and the Pandavas and would speak to Duryodhana in a righteous and honourable manner.
He declared that he would honestly suggest the proper path to both sides. Though Duryodhana might accuse him of partiality toward the Pandavas, even that would be acceptable. If Duryodhana refused to listen, the world would later accuse him, saying that when brothers fought, Krishna did not intervene to restore harmony, though he was capable of correcting both sides. Thus, for the satisfaction of the elders, he would speak what was necessary. If Duryodhana and the others recognized the path he opened for their survival, they might escape death, but if they turned against him through cunning, they would not be able to withstand his presence.
Convinced by this reasoning, Vidura withdrew to rest. Krishna, reflecting upon Vidura’s orderly and profound words, wondered whether such a noble soul could be found anywhere else in the world. Reclining upon a white bed, he appeared like gentle waves upon the ocean of milk. He slept peacefully in Vidura’s house and awoke to the music of bards, performed his morning rites and rituals, and emerged refreshed.
Krutavarma and Satyaki greeted Krishna with reverence, and several others gathered around him, engaging in casual conversation. Soon Duryodhana arrived with Karna, Shakuni, Dussasana, and others, greeting the Lord with outward courtesy, to which Krishna responded graciously. They then informed him that King Dhritarashtra was seated in the assembly with counsellors and kinsmen. Upon this signal, Krishna mounted his chariot amid the blare of conches, drums, and trumpets, while maidens waved fans and his banner bearing the emblem of Garuda shone brilliantly. His entry through the gates sent waves of auspiciousness through the waiting crowd.
Krishna descended from the chariot, touched Vidura’s hand with one hand and placed the other upon Satyaki, walking forward as Karna and Duryodhana made way for him into the great hall of assembly. The mighty Yadavas followed him, while the Kauravas appeared like dim stars before the splendour of the rising sun. He shone like a mountain of light. Dhritarashtra and the others approached Madhusudana and welcomed him, and he returned their greetings with proper honour.
Standing beside a richly adorned seat gleaming with jewels, Krishna perceived divine sages present in the sky. He addressed grandsire Bhishma, saying that Narada and other celestial sages had come to witness the assembly and should be received with honour and given proper seats, for it was not fitting to sit before the sages were seated. Bhishma and the elders hastened in wonder, arranged splendid seats studded with precious gems, worshipped the sages, and with folded hands invited them to be seated. When the honours were completed and Vasudeva and the sages had taken their places, Dhritarashtra and the others also sat.
Satyaki and Krutavarma sat on either side of Krishna, while Karna and Duryodhana shared a single seat. Vidura sat behind Murari, and Shakuni of Gandhara sat on the opposite side with his sons. At that moment the aura of Krishna intensified, as though Srihari had fully descended, and the members of the assembly gazed upon him with devotion, feeling as though they beheld a vision that might never return. The restless kings fell silent, like wandering suns halted by Mount Meru, stilled by Krishna’s presence.
In the hush of the hall, Krishna addressed Dhritarashtra in a voice deep and resonant. He said that the king already knew all matters and that he had come to satisfy the honour of the Bharata lineage and to ensure justice for both families. The Kauravas and the Pandavas, he urged, should live together in harmony like milk and water, and it was the king’s duty to guide them upon that path. He reminded Dhritarashtra that he bore no discrimination between the two families and that the Bharata lineage was renowned for virtue, justice, truth, and unity, qualities exemplified by both himself and his brother Pandu.
He questioned why, in such a noble tradition, there should now be deviation from admirable conduct. Dhritarashtra, as leader and foundation of the Kuru dynasty, bore responsibility for the good and evil arising from its members. He urged the king to think of the welfare of both families and, with firm resolve and transparent intention, correct their conduct in a manner worthy of public praise.
Krishna then spoke plainly, saying that Duryodhana and his companions had strayed from righteousness, neglecting good deeds and unaware that such conduct distanced them from great achievements. By mocking the traditions of their lineage and acting with terrifying intent, they tormented their kin and shrank from no wicked act. The best course, he said, was for both Kauravas and Pandavas to reach a noble agreement and live in peace, for this would benefit the king, the lineage, and the many rulers across the realms.
He warned that if war were to erupt, a vast calamity would befall all. Trusting in his counsel, the king should ally, for the fate of peace lay in his hands and could be accomplished through his authority. To restore joy to both families was just and proper. Complacency, he declared, was disastrous, and the king possessed the power to awaken wisdom in any heart. He asked how many warriors there were who could truly match Bhima and Arjuna in battle, noting that even the valour of Bhishma and Drona was unmatched and irreplaceable.
Krishna urged that harmony was far superior to the slaughter of heroes on either side and that unity was always preferable. By whatever means necessary, the king should calm the raging hearts of his people. Just as a mother cannot justly bear enmity toward her own children, so too was it unjust for a ruler to allow hatred to consume his house. If he failed to protect both Kauravas and Pandavas, many other kings and the masses of the earth would also suffer, and such failure would be a grave sin. Any death or harm among his kin would bring him only sorrow, not benefit.
He concluded that both families were learned and chivalrous, their strength and pride difficult to restrain, and that with such mighty forces advancing toward war it was unwise for the king to remain a mere spectator. Their bodies should not be pierced by arrows to become a source of lifelong grief to him. Thus, Krishna’s discourse unfolded, largely advisory, gradually and skilfully bringing the heart of the matter to the fore, his words suited to each temperament, revealing a mastery that the Kauravas and their allies would fully comprehend only in the course of time.
