The sage, having acquired a material image for worship—be it fashioned from earth, water, or other elements—should approach it with self-control, peace of mind, restraint in speech, and moderation in food. With such discipline, he is to worship the form with reverence. The Lord, praised in sublime verses, reveals Himself by His own inconceivable power and by acts of His own choosing; thus, one should meditate upon Him as present within the heart. All acts of service that were previously offered to the Lord should now be directed toward His form established by mantra, with the heart fully absorbed in the sacred sound. In this way, when the Lord is worshipped with body, mind, and speech, and with devotion that arises from the very core of one’s being, then He is truly worshipped. To those who are free from deceit and worship Him properly, the Lord increases their devotion and grants them the highest good they desire, a blessing not attained by ordinary duties. One who is detached from sense pleasures should worship Him with unwavering and sincere devotion, practicing the yoga of devotion, to attain complete liberation. Having received such instructions, the young prince circumambulated his teacher, bowed in respect, and journeyed to the sacred forest of Madhuvana, sanctified by the Lord’s own footprints. Arriving in that forest of penance, the sage entered the inner chambers, where he was honored by the king. Seated comfortably, the sage spoke to the king. Nārada asked, “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—though merely a child of five—has been exiled with his mother by a cruel-hearted woman. Yet he is a great sage. O brāhmaṇa, though he is helpless in the forest, may the wolves not harm that child—tired, lying down, hungry, his lotus-like face withered. Alas, consider my wretchedness, conquered by a woman! I did not welcome that innocent one when he wished 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. Having performed a deed difficult even for the guardians of the worlds, O King, he will soon win for you a fame that will become immense.” Maitreya continued, “Hearing these words spoken by the divine sage, the lord of the earth, disregarding royal splendor, thought only of his son. There, having been consecrated and purified, he spent the night in observance, and with focused mind, served the Supreme Person as 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 similar things, and worshipped the Lord. In the third month, on every ninth day, he subsisted on water alone, absorbed in meditation as he approached the Glorious Lord. In the fourth month, on every twelfth day, he lived only on air, having conquered his breath, and sustained his meditation on the Lord. When the fifth month began, 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 upon the Lord’s form, seeing nothing else. As he sustained the Supreme, the Lord of primordial matter and the great elements, the support of all, the three worlds began to tremble. When that royal boy stood on one foot, the earth, pressed by his big toe, bent wherever he stood, just as an elephant’s platform tilts beneath its 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 Hari. The gods prayed, “O Lord, we do not know of such restraint of life-breath among all beings, moving and unmoving, whose abode is You. Please grant us release from this distress; we have come to You, the ultimate refuge.” The Blessed Lord replied, “Do not fear. I will cause the boy to desist from this arduous austerity. Return to your own realms. It was because of his union with Me that your breath was restrained, O sons of Uttānapāda.” Sūta then spoke, “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, too, O sage among the Brāhmaṇas, together with Dhanañjaya, rode in a chariot; among them, the king shone like Kubera among the Yakṣas. Seeing Bhīṣma fallen 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 Brahmanas, the foremost among the divine sages, and the royal sages assembled to see the chief of the Bharatas. Parvata, Nārada, Dhaumya, the venerable Badarayana, Brihadasva, Bharadvaja with his disciples, and the son of Renuka were present. Vasishtha, Indrapramada, Trita, Gritsamada, Asita, Kakshivan, Gautama, Atri, Kaushika, and Sudarshana were also there. Other sages as well, O Brahman, pure-hearted ones like Brahmarata and others, arrived with their disciples—Kashyapa, Angiras, and the rest. Perceiving those assembled, most fortunate ones, the best of the Vasus, who knew righteousness and the proper distinctions of place and time, honored them. He also worshipped Krishna, who knew His own majesty, seated there as Lord of the universe, present in the heart, having assumed a form through His own maya. He then addressed the sons of Pandu, who sat with humility and affection, their eyes blinded by tears of deep attachment. He said, “Alas, how grievous, how unjust it is that you, O sons of Dharma, who are afflicted, devoted to the Brahmanas, to righteousness, and to Acyuta, are not fit to suffer or to live in distress. With the great warrior Pandu gone, Kunti, left with young children and as a widow, has endured many hardships for your sake, time and again, like one with a child.