Hearing the Lord’s compassionate words, Nalakūbara and his companion were filled with joy, for the supreme devotion they had longed for had now arisen in their hearts. Krishna gently instructed them, “Return to your own abode, O Nalakūbara, for the devotion you sought has been fulfilled.” The two celestial beings, their hearts overflowing with gratitude, reverently circumambulated Krishna, bowing again and again before him. Taking leave of the mortar to which the Lord had been bound, they departed, journeying toward the northern direction. Thus, Śuka explained, it was by devotion alone that the Supreme Lord revealed himself—without such devotion, even the most learned cannot behold him. The Lord’s birth and deeds are not governed by ordinary laws; indeed, these events are attributed to him by Māyā, only to dispel the illusion of agency. This era, known as Brahmā’s kalpa, is described as having distinctive features, and within it, the cycles of creation unfold, both primary and secondary. “Now,” Śuka continued, “I will explain the measure of time, the forms that mark a kalpa, and, as before, describe the Padma Kalpa. Listen carefully.” At this point, Śaunaka, the sage, spoke up. “O Sūta, you told us how Vidura, the foremost devotee, left behind his family—so hard to renounce—and wandered to holy places upon the earth. Tell us, gentle one, what Vidura did, and the reason for his renunciation and eventual return. And what was the conversation between Vidura, son of Vyāsa, and the sage Kauśārava? When questioned, that great soul spoke the truth on spiritual matters. Please, recount these events for us.” Sūta replied, “What the great sage answered when King Parīkṣit asked him, I will now relate to you, for it follows the king’s questions.” The king had asked, “In which action of the Lord—the maker of the universe and my own self—was his fame increased by Krishna? Please describe this.” Śrī Nārada then narrated: “When the gods, empowered by Krishna, defeated the demons in battle, the vanquished sought refuge with Maya, the supreme master of illusion. Maya, powerful and ingenious, constructed three cities—one of gold, one of silver, and one of iron—joined by subtle means and defended beyond imagination. From these strongholds, the demon armies, remembering their ancient enmity, began to devastate the three worlds. Alarmed, the rulers of the worlds, along with their lords, approached the Supreme Lord. Bowing down, they pleaded, ‘Protect us, O God! We are being destroyed by the inhabitants of Tripura!’ The Lord, ever gracious, reassured them, ‘Do not fear.’ He strung an arrow to his bow and released a mighty weapon upon the cities. Arrows blazing like fire shot forth from the solar orb—so swift and radiant, they were unseen as they sped toward the cities. Struck by these arrows, the inhabitants of the cities perished and fell. Yet Maya, the great yogī, gathered their lifeless forms and cast them into a well filled with nectar. Revived by the touch of immortality, the demons rose up again, strong as thunderbolts, leaping into the sky like lightning splitting the clouds. Seeing his plan thwarted, and Vṛṣadhvaja, the leader, dispirited, Lord Viṣṇu devised another strategy. At that moment, Brahmā became a calf, Viṣṇu himself became a cow, and together they entered Tripura at the right time, drinking the nectar from the well. Though the demons witnessed this, they did not intervene, being deluded by illusion. Realizing this, Maya, smiling and free from sorrow, remembered those afflicted by fate and reflected on destiny, knowing that none—god, demon, human, or any other—are truly independent. He understood that what is ordained for oneself or another cannot be averted, for fate prevails over all. With his own powers, he then performed the principal act of Shiva. Through righteousness, knowledge, detachment, prosperity, austerity, learning, and action, he manifested all the elements of battle: chariot, charioteer, banner, horses, bow, armor, arrows, and more. Fully armed and mounting the chariot, the Lord took up his bow and arrow. Fitting the arrow to the bow, he prepared himself in a moment for victory. With that arrow, O King, Hara burned the three impregnable cities to ashes. The heavens resounded with the beating of celestial drums, and the skies were filled with hundreds of divine vehicles. Gods, sages, ancestors, and perfected beings, overjoyed, showered flowers and proclaimed victory. The Apsaras danced in delight. Thus, having destroyed the three cities, the Lord—praised by Brahma and the others—returned to his own abode. In this way, the deeds of Hari, who by his own power playfully imitates the ways of mortals, are sung by the sages. What more can I say? These stories purify the world. Sūta continued: Approaching the lands of Ānarta and his own prosperous regions, Krishna blew his resounding conch, as if dispelling all sorrow. The conch, white-bellied and high-pitched, touched by the Lord’s reddish lower lip and held in his lotus-like hand, sounded like a swan calling in a pond of lotuses. Hearing that fear-dispelling blast, all the people, eager to see their Lord, came forth. Gathered together, their strength renewed, they honored Krishna as one honors a lamp that dispels darkness, feeling content and fulfilled simply by his presence. Their faces blossomed with joy, and, their voices choked with happiness, they spoke as children do to a father who is their protector and dearest friend: “We bow to you, Master, whose lotus feet are always worshipped by Brahma, Shiva, and Indra. You are the supreme refuge for those who seek well-being, where even Time, the supreme lord, holds no sway. For our welfare, you are the creator, sustainer, and protector of the universe; you are our mother, friend, lord, and father; our true teacher and highest deity. By following you, we have become accomplished. Ah, we are truly blessed by you, for even the gods of heaven rarely behold what we see: your face, radiant with loving smiles and glances, and your form adorned with all auspiciousness. O lotus-eyed one, whenever you departed for the Kurus or the Madhus, wishing to visit your friends, each moment felt as long as millions of ages, like eyes bereft of the sun, O Acyuta.” Thus, as the people spoke these words, the Lord, ever affectionate to his devotees, listened to their praises and, bestowing his gracious glance upon them, entered the city.