His abdomen was adorned with three graceful lines, rising and falling with the gentle rhythm of his breath, as though the very universe itself moved with each inhalation and exhalation, drawn into and released from the deep whirl of his navel. Draped about his dark hips was a radiant yellow garment, fastened with a golden belt; his thighs, knees, and shins were perfectly formed, pleasing to the eye. His feet shone like autumn lotuses, their petals bright and pure, and the nails upon them radiated a light that dispelled all inner darkness. O revered Teacher, reveal to us your own feet, for they are the path by which those who seek to cross the darkness of ignorance may journey. This divine form is to be meditated upon by all who seek self-purification, for devotion to it grants fearlessness to those who perform their duties. You are attainable by the devoted, though difficult for embodied beings to reach; even sovereignty over the self is lesser than the supreme state of self-realization gained through exclusive devotion to you. Having worshipped Him—who is hard to approach, even for the virtuous—through undivided devotion, who could desire anything apart from His feet? Death, the ender of life, cannot approach those who are indifferent to it, even as he destroys the universe with his fierce might and the arching of his brows. Not even heaven or liberation can compare to even half a moment spent in the company of the Lord’s devotees—what, then, of other blessings? Therefore, O sinless one, may we ever have the association of those pure-hearted souls who are compassionate toward all beings, whose sins are washed away by bathing inwardly and outwardly in the sacredness of your fame—this alone is your supreme grace to us. He whose mind is undistracted by external objects, who does not enter the dark cave of ignorance, and whose mind is purified by the favor of devotion and yoga—such a sage surely perceives your path. That in which this universe appears, and by which it is illumined—that supreme reality, the highest Brahman, is vast and all-encompassing, like space itself. He who, by his own power of illusion, creates this world of endless forms, sustains it, and again dissolves it, remaining ever unchanged—the perception of difference arises only from the restlessness of the mind. O Lord, we recognize you as self-dependent. With faith, yogis worship you alone through various rituals to attain perfection; you are perceived in all beings, in the senses, and in the mind—thus, those skilled in the Veda and Tantra know you. You alone are the primeval Person, whose power lies dormant; by that power, the modes of passion, goodness, and darkness are differentiated. From you arise the great ego, space, air, fire, water, earth, the gods, sages, and all beings. Having entered this creation by your own power, you dwell within the fourfold body as a portion of the self; thus, the wise know that Person who, abiding within, enjoys the essence of the senses as honey. You are the swift chariot of time, dragging all worlds with irresistible force; the elements, subtle and inferred, are like masses of clouds, and you are like the wind—unbearable in your might. While people, intoxicated and distracted by thoughts of action, greedily long for sense objects, you, ever alert, suddenly seize them like a snake licking up a mouse, O Death. What wise person would abandon your lotus feet, which are the abode of honor and humility? Out of fear, even the fourteen Manus, our revered teachers, have worshipped you, lest they fall from their exalted position. Therefore, O Brahman, Supreme Self, you are the refuge of the wise; when the universe is struck by the fear of Rudra, you alone are the shelter free from all fear. Recite this, O noble sons of kings, remaining pure, performing your own duties, and offering your intentions to the Lord—may all be well for you. Worship that very Self, who abides within and is present in all beings, praising and meditating constantly on Hari. Having received the instruction in yoga, maintaining the vows of sages, and with concentrated minds, may you all practice this with reverence. Long ago, the Lord, master of creation, spoke this to us, wishing to bring forth the sons of Bhṛgu and others, and to all those who desired to create. We, all the lords of progeny, were not inclined to create beings; but by this wisdom, with darkness dispelled, we wished to create various creatures. Now, one who is always engaged, reciting this attentively, soon attains the highest good, being devoted to Vāsudeva. Here, this supreme knowledge is the highest welfare for all; by the boat of knowledge, one easily crosses the difficult ocean of misfortune. Whoever, with faith, recites this praise of the Lord sung by me, worships Hari—who is otherwise hard to worship. From this, a person obtains whatever he desires, swiftly, from this song dear to the highest good. Whoever, rising early, with joined palms and full of faith, hears or recites this, is freed from the bonds of karma. O sons of men-gods, this song, this praise of the Supreme Person, the Paramātmā, has been sung by me; recite it with focused mind as great austerity, practice it, and in the end you will attain your desired goal. Now, out of anger, Indra poured down a torrent of club-like rain for the protection of the inhabitants of Vraja, and for the lifting of Govardhana. Indra, enraged, urged the destructive clouds called Sāṃvartaka, and spoke words full of command: "Ah! The pride and greatness of the cowherds, dwellers of the forest, who, relying on Krishna—a mortal—have shown disrespect to the gods. "Just as, abandoning the science of inquiry, some wish to cross the ocean of existence with rituals performed by strong actions and names, so these cowherds, relying on Krishna—a talkative, childish, arrogant, ignorant one who thinks himself wise—have wronged me. Blinded by their own wealth, puffed up by Krishna, they destroy their pride born of prosperity and drive their cattle to ruin. "I, mounting Airāvata, the elephant, will go to Vraja, accompanied by the wind-gods with great force, intent on destroying Nanda's cowherd settlement." Śuka continued: Thus, commanded by Maghavan, the clouds, freed from restraint, began to afflict Nanda's cowherd village with torrents of rain. They flashed with lightning, roared with thunder, and were driven by fierce winds, pouring down water and hail. Thick and thin streams of rain fell incessantly into the chasms, and the earth, flooded by torrents of water, was no longer visible—neither low nor high could be discerned.