Ever radiant and full of joy, there appeared a divine personage—his cheeks rounded, his smile pure, his face shining like a lotus in bloom, and his ears adorned with brilliant makara-shaped earrings. This was none other than Vāsudeva himself, unmistakable with the Śrīvatsa mark upon his chest, four strong arms, lotus-like eyes, and a garland of forest flowers gracing his form. His beauty was supreme, enchanting the heart of all who beheld him. The Yavana king, recognizing the signs described by the sage Nārada, knew that no one else could match this description. Determined, he resolved, “I shall fight him unarmed, as he is,” and so, desiring to seize Vāsudeva, he pursued as the Lord moved away on foot. Yet, Vāsudeva is unattainable even to the greatest yogis; still, the Yavana chased after him. Step by step, Hari kept himself just out of reach, drawing the Yavana onward as if the king could catch himself with his own hand. Thus, the Lord led him into a mountain cave, always remaining visible yet distant. The Yavana, taunting as he followed—“Flight does not befit one born in the noble Yadu line!”—could not catch up, for fate was against him. Undeterred by these taunts, the Blessed Lord entered the cave, and the Yavana followed. There, inside the gloom, he saw another man lying asleep. The foolish Yavana thought, “This must be Vāsudeva, brought far away and now lying here like a saint.” In his ignorance, he struck the sleeping man with his foot. That man, who had been in deep slumber for ages, slowly awoke. He opened his eyes and looked around, seeing the Yavana standing nearby. In that moment, O descendant of Bharata, the man’s angry gaze, blazing with an inner fire, instantly reduced the Yavana to ashes—burned by the very force of his own body. King Parīkṣit, hearing this wondrous tale, asked, “O brāhmaṇa, who was that man? What was his lineage and power? Why did he sleep in the cave? What was the brilliance of the one who destroyed the Yavana?” Śrī Śuka replied, “He was born in the illustrious Ikṣvāku dynasty, the great son of Māndhātṛ, renowned as Mucukunda. He was steadfast in truth and devoted to the brāhmaṇas. Long ago, the hosts of gods, including Indra, sought his help to protect them from the terrifying asuras, and Mucukunda served as their protector for a great length of time. When the gods found Mucukunda in the cave, they said to him, ‘O king, you have endured enough hardship in protecting us. You have forsaken the world of men and a kingdom free from enemies; all your desires have been set aside for our sake. Your sons, wives, relatives, ministers, counselors, and even your subjects—those of your own generation—are no longer alive. Time, the almighty and imperishable Lord, is mightier than the mightiest; he plays with all beings, bringing them to their end, just as a herdsman does with cattle. Choose a boon, O fortunate one—anything but liberation, for that is not ours to give. There is but one Lord who can grant that: the imperishable Bhagavān Viṣṇu.’ Thus addressed, Mucukunda bowed to the gods, then entered the cave and surrendered to a deep, divine sleep. When the Yavana had been reduced to ashes, the Blessed Lord, best of the Sātvatas, revealed himself to the wise Mucukunda. The king beheld him—dark as a raincloud, clad in yellow silk, the Śrīvatsa mark shining on his chest, and the Kaustubha gem radiant upon him. Four luminous arms bore divine ornaments, including the Vaijayantī garland; his face was beautiful and gracious, his makara earrings sparkling. His eyes smiled with affection, his form ever youthful, majestic as a lion, and full of noble power—a sight to delight all humanity. Overwhelmed by the Lord’s brilliance, the wise king, cautious and awestruck, gently questioned him, as one might speak to an unconquerable force. Mucukunda asked, “Who are you, O shining one, who has come into this forest and mountain cave, wandering with lotus-petal feet among thorns? What is the brilliance of the radiant ones—be it the Lord, fire, sun, moon, Indra, or any guardian of the worlds—compared to yours? I consider you the foremost among the gods, for you dispel the cave’s darkness as a lamp with its light. O best of men, if it pleases you, tell us, who are eager to serve, of your birth, your deeds, and your lineage. “As for myself, O tiger among men, I am of the Ikṣvāku clan, a kṣatriya; I am called Mucukunda, son of Yuvanāśva. Exhausted from long wakefulness, my senses dulled by sleep, I lay here alone until someone awakened me just now. That person, surely destroyed by his own wickedness, was reduced to ashes—immediately after, you appeared, glorious and famed for subduing enemies. Your radiance is so great I cannot gaze upon you; O illustrious one, you are worthy of the highest honor among embodied beings.” Thus addressed, the Lord, creator of all beings, replied with a gentle smile, his voice deep as thunderclouds: “My births, deeds, and names are countless, O friend; even I cannot enumerate them, for they are infinite. Sometimes I have considered my earthly births among great beings, but they are never defined by qualities, deeds, or names. My births and deeds span all three times—past, present, and future—and even the greatest sages, tracing them in order, never reach their end. “Yet, O king, listen as I speak of my present birth. Long ago, at the request of Brahmā, I descended to protect dharma. To relieve the earth’s burden and destroy the asuras, I was born into the Yadu lineage, in the house of Anakadundubhi; people call me Vāsudeva, son of Vasudeva. Kalanemi, Kaṁsa, Pralamba, and other evil ones have been slain; this Yavana too has been burned by your fierce gaze. “I have come to this cave for your sake, to show you my favor. In the past, you prayed to me with great devotion, and I am always devoted to my devotees.