"Nothing could have been more painful for me and for my own sons, O Madhava, than that they had to spend the period of concealment shut away in another's house. Fourteen full years have passed since the day Duryodhana first drove my sons into exile. If suffering exhausts the fruits of sins, and happiness depends on the fruits of religious merit, then it seems that happiness may still be ours after so much suffering. I have never made any distinction between the sons of Dhritarashtra and my own, as far as a mother's love is concerned. By this truth, O Krishna, I shall surely see you, together with the Pandavas, emerge safely from the present struggle, their enemies slain, and the kingdom restored to them. The Pandavas themselves have kept their vow with such truthfulness, adhering to Dharma, that their enemies cannot possibly defeat them. Yet for my present sorrows I blame neither myself nor Suyodhana, but only my own father. Like a wealthy man giving away a certain sum of money as a gift, my father gave me away to Kuntibhoja. When I was a child playing with a ball in my hands, your grandfather, O Keshava, gave me to his friend, the illustrious Kuntibhoja. Abandoned, O scourge of foes, by my own father and by my father-in-law, and suffering unbearable sorrows, what use is it, O Madhava, that I am alive? On the night of the birth of Savyasachin, in the lying-in chamber, an unseen voice told me: 'This son of yours will conquer the whole world, and his fame will reach the very heavens. Having slain the Kurus in a great battle and recovered the kingdom, your son Dhananjaya, together with his brothers, will perform three great sacrifices.' I do not doubt the truth of that declaration. I bow before Dharma, which upholds creation. If Dharma is not a myth, then, O Krishna, you will surely accomplish all that the unseen voice foretold. Neither the loss of my husband, O Madhava, nor the loss of wealth, nor our feud with the Kauravas has ever caused me such agonizing pain as separation from my children. What peace can my heart know when I do not see before me the wielder of the Gandiva, namely Dhananjaya, foremost among all bearers of arms? For fourteen years, O Govinda, I have not seen Yudhishthira, Dhananjaya, and Vrikodara. Men perform the funeral rites for those they have long missed, taking them for dead. Indeed, O Janardana, all my children are dead to me, and I am dead to them." "Tell the virtuous King Yudhishthira, O Madhava, that 'Your virtue, O son, diminishes with each passing day. Therefore act so that your religious merit does not diminish.' Shame upon those who live, O Janardana, in dependence on others. Even death is better than a livelihood gained through baseness. You must also tell Dhananjaya and the ever-ready Vrikodara that: 'The time has come for that event when a kshatriya woman shall bear a son. If you let the time slip away and accomplish nothing, then, though the whole world honors you at present, you will be doing only what would be counted contemptible.'"