O King, listen as I recount the wondrous tale sung by the wise Nārada. In ancient times, when the gods, empowered by the Supreme Lord, vanquished the demons in battle, those defeated beings sought refuge with Maya, the supreme master of illusion. Maya, mighty and ingenious, constructed for them three formidable cities—one of gold, one of silver, and one of iron. These cities, subtle in their union and equipped with unassailable defenses, were nearly impossible to perceive. With these triple fortresses, the demon hosts, together with their lords and recalling their ancient enmity, unleashed havoc upon the three worlds. The rulers of the worlds, overwhelmed and desperate, gathered with their own lords and approached the Lord, bowing low in supplication. “Protect us, O God!” they cried. “We are being destroyed by the inhabitants of Tripura!” Moved by their plea, the Lord assured them, “Do not fear.” He took up his bow, set an arrow, and released a mighty weapon upon the cities. From the very orb of the sun, arrows blazing like fire shot forth—swift as rays of light, invisible as they sped toward their mark. Struck by these arrows, the inhabitants of the cities fell lifeless. Yet Maya, the great yogī, gathered their bodies and cast them into a well brimming with nectar of immortality. Touched by this elixir, the demons regained their strength, rising up with thunderbolt-like vigor, splitting the clouds like flashes of lightning. Seeing his efforts thwarted and Vṛṣadhvaja disheartened, Lord Viṣṇu conceived another means. At that moment, Brahmā became a calf and Viṣṇu himself took the form of a cow. Entering Tripura at the opportune time, they drank up the nectar from the well. Though the demons witnessed this, they did nothing to prevent it, deluded by illusion. Realizing what had transpired, Maya, smiling and free of sorrow, spoke to the guardians of the nectar, remembering those afflicted by grief and pondering the workings of destiny: for god, demon, human, or any other being, none here is truly independent. What is destined for oneself or another cannot be averted, for fate prevails. Then, with his own powers, Maya performed the principal act of Shiva. By means of righteousness, knowledge, detachment, prosperity, austerity, learning, and action, he manifested the chariot, charioteer, banner, horses, bow, armor, arrows, and all the accoutrements of battle. Fully armed and mounting the chariot, he took up the bow and arrow. Fitting the arrow to the bow, in a single moment, the Lord of Victory prepared himself. With that arrow, O King, Hara—Shiva—burned the three impregnable cities to ashes. In the heavens, celestial drums resounded, and the skies filled with hundreds of divine vehicles. The gods, sages, ancestors, and perfected beings, jubilant, showered flowers and proclaimed victory; the Apsaras danced in delight. Having destroyed the three cities, the Lord, praised by Brahmā and the others, returned to his own abode. Thus are the deeds of Hari, who, by his own power, playfully imitates the ways of mortals. Such acts, sung by the sages, purify the world—what more can be said? Now, Sūta continues: When the Lord approached the lands of Ānarta and his own prosperous regions, he blew his resounding conch, as if to dispel the sorrow of the people. That conch, white-bellied and high-pitched, touched by the Lord’s reddish lower lip and held in his lotus-like hand, sounded like the call of a swan in a pond of lotuses. Hearing that fear-dispelling blast, all the people, eager to see their beloved Lord, came forth. Gathered together, their strength renewed, they honored him as one would a lamp in darkness, feeling ever content and fulfilled in his presence. Faces blooming with joy, they spoke in voices choked with happiness, as children to a father who is their protector and dearest friend. They said, “We bow to you, Master, whose lotus feet are always worshipped by Brahmā, 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; you are 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 see your friends, each moment became as long as millions of ages, like eyes bereft of the sun, O Acyuta.” As the people spoke these words, the Lord, ever affectionate to his devotees, listened and bestowed his gracious glance upon them, then entered the city. Protected by the Madhus, Bhojas, Dasharhas, Kukuras, Andhakas, and Vrishnis, whose strength matched his own, he made the city secure, as the serpents guard Bhogavati. In every season, with all prosperity, surrounded by auspicious trees, creepers, hermitages, gardens, parks, and lotus ponds, the city shone with splendor. At the gates, doorways, and roads, festive arches were constructed, adorned with colorful flags and banners, shading the city from the sun. The grand avenues, streets, markets, and squares were swept clean, sprinkled with fragrant water, and decorated with fruits, flowers, and grains. At the doors of each house, full pots, yogurt, grains, fruits, sugarcane, offerings, incense, and lamps adorned the thresholds. Hearing that their beloved was arriving, Vasudeva, noble-minded, Akrura, Ugrasena, and Balarāma of wondrous prowess, along with Pradyumna, Charudeshna, Samba the son of Jambavati, and all the others, overwhelmed with joy, abandoned their beds, seats, and meals. Placing the lordly elephant at the front, accompanied by Brahmins chanting auspicious hymns, with the sound of conch shells and trumpets, and honored by the chanting of Vedic hymns, they joyfully approached with chariots, moved by affection and awe. Hundreds of leading elephants, adorned with shining earrings and radiant cheeks, enhanced the splendor of the procession. Dancers, actors, Gandharvas, bards, Magadhas, and singers sang the wondrous deeds and stories of the illustrious one. The Blessed Lord, amidst his relatives and the citizens who followed him, approached each according to custom and honored them all. Thus, the Lord’s return was celebrated with joy, reverence, and love, his deeds sung by all, bringing prosperity and happiness to his people.