One should worship the Supreme Lord with offerings of pure water, fragrant flowers, wild roots, fruits, tender sprouts, and fresh garments, but above all, with the beloved leaves of tulasī. When a devotee obtains a material image for worship—whether fashioned from earth, water, or other elements—the sage, self-controlled, peaceful, restrained in speech, and moderate in food, should worship that image with devotion. The Lord, who is glorified in sublime hymns, reveals Himself by His own inconceivable power and by His freely chosen deeds; thus, one should meditate upon Him as present within the heart. All forms of service previously rendered should now be offered to the Lord’s form established by mantra, with the mind wholly absorbed in that sacred sound. True worship occurs when the Lord is served with body, mind, and speech, and with devotion that arises from the heart. To those who are free from deceit and worship Him properly, the Lord increases their devotion and bestows upon them the highest good they desire—a blessing not attained by ordinary duties. Therefore, one who is detached from sense pleasures should worship the Lord with unwavering and sincere devotion, practicing the yoga of devotion for the sake of complete liberation. Having thus received these instructions, the prince circumambulated his teacher with reverence, bowed low, and journeyed to the sacred forest of Madhuvana, sanctified by the Lord’s own footprints. There, having entered the forest of penance, the sage was welcomed with honor by the king, and, seated comfortably, began to speak to him. Nārada inquired, “O King, why do you sit so long in thought, your face parched with sorrow? Is it that some desire or duty, perhaps joined with wealth, remains unfulfilled?” The king replied, “O brāhmaṇa, my son—a mere child of five years—has been exiled to the forest with his mother by a cruel-hearted woman. He is a great sage, yet helpless and alone. I fear for him, that wolves may harm the child—tired, lying on the ground, hungry, his lotus-like face withered. Alas, see my wretchedness, conquered by a woman! I did not welcome that innocent one, who wished only to climb into my lap out of love—how base I am!” Nārada gently consoled him, “O protector of the people, do not grieve for your son, who is guarded by the gods. Not knowing his greatness, you lament, though his fame will spread throughout the world. He will soon perform a deed difficult even for the guardians of the worlds, O King, and bring you a fame that will become immense.” Maitreya continued: Hearing these words from the divine sage, the lord of the earth, disregarding royal opulence, thought only of his son. In Madhuvana, after being consecrated and purified, he spent the night in observance, and with a focused mind, served the Supreme Person as he had been instructed. At the end of every three nights, subsisting only on wood-apple and jujube fruits, he spent a month worshipping Hari according to his capacity. In the second month, on every sixth day, the boy prepared food from fallen leaves, grass, and such, and offered worship to the Lord. During the third month, on every ninth day, he subsisted on water alone, absorbed in meditation upon the Glorious Lord. In the fourth month, on every twelfth day, he lived on air, having conquered his breath, and sustained his meditation on the Lord. When the fifth month arrived, the prince, having mastered his breath, stood on one leg, meditating on the Absolute, unmoving like a pillar. Withdrawing his mind from all else and fixing it in his heart—the seat of the elements and senses—he meditated on the form of the Lord, seeing nothing else. As he thus sustained the Supreme, the Lord of primordial matter and the great elements, the support of all, the three worlds themselves began to tremble. When the royal boy stood on one foot, the earth, pressed by his big toe, bent wherever he stood, just as an elephant’s platform tilts under its massive weight. As he meditated on the Self of the universe, closing the doors of his senses with unwavering concentration, the worlds and their guardians, oppressed and breathless, sought refuge in Lord Hari. The gods prayed, “O Lord, we know of no such restraint of life-breath in any being, moving or unmoving, whose abode is You. Please grant us release from this distress; we have come to You, our ultimate refuge.” The Blessed Lord replied, “Do not fear. I will cause the boy to desist from this arduous austerity. Return to your realms. It is because of his union with Me that your breath was restrained, O sons of Uttānapāda.” Sūta then narrated: Thus, out of fear of harming his subjects and desiring to know all righteousness, the king went to the place where Devavrata lay. At that time, all his brothers, with horses adorned in gold, followed in chariots, as did the sages Vyāsa, Dhaumya, and others. The Blessed Lord Himself, together with Dhanañjaya, rode in a chariot; among them, the king shone like Kubera among the Yakṣas. Seeing Bhīṣma lying on the ground, like a god fallen from heaven, the Pāṇḍavas, along with their followers and the wielder of the discus, bowed to him. There, all the great sages among the Brāhmaṇas, the foremost among the divine sages, and the royal sages assembled to see the chief of the Bharatas. Among them were Parvata, Nārada, Dhaumya, the venerable Badarayana, Brihadasva, Bharadvaja with his disciples, and the son of Renuka. Also present were Vasishtha, Indrapramada, Trita, Gritsamada, Asita, Kakshivan, Gautama, Atri, Kaushika, and Sudarshana. Many other pure-hearted sages, such as Brahmarata and others, arrived with their disciples—Kashyapa, Angiras, and the rest. Perceiving those assembled, the most fortunate ones, Bhīṣma—the best of the Vasus, who knew righteousness and the proper distinctions of place and time—honored them all. He also worshipped Krishna, who, knowing His own majesty, was seated there as the Lord of the universe, present in the heart, having assumed a form through His own māyā. Then, he addressed the sons of Pāṇḍu, who sat with humility and affection, their eyes blinded by tears of deep attachment. “Alas,” he said, “how grievous, how unjust it is that you, O sons of Dharma, who are afflicted, devoted to the Brāhmaṇas, to righteousness, and to Acyuta, are not fit to suffer or to live in distress.