Having journeyed to the enchanting forests of Vṛndāvana, Hari, accompanied by the joyful cowherds and their women, delighted in their company. When the rains had ended and the air was fresh with new life, the Lord himself, Hari, graciously bestowed upon them the highest knowledge, knowledge that surpasses all else. This was the very wisdom that Śuka had once imparted to the wise King Viṣṇurāta. And, at the culmination of this sacred narration, Lord Viṣṇu—Janārdana himself—manifested before them. It was said, “By you, O Lord, this entire universe—gods, animals, and humans alike—has been pervaded.” In the age of Kali, those who invoke your name, even those who create hell by it, are fulfilled. If you have granted this boon, tell us, what is the true greatness of your name? When the world falls under the sway of Buddhist rule, shaped by hypocrisy and deceit, all victory belongs to you, O Lord of existence, embodiment of truth, consciousness, and bliss, creator of the universe. Hearing these words, Śivā, the divine goddess, asked, “Who is your supreme deity?” And thus, O beautiful one, the earth here attained purity. Upon hearing this, the goddess Śivā entered into a secret, mysterious time. Alongside her were Caṇḍīśa, Gaṇeśa, Nandī, and Guha. Then it was said, “Listen, O goddess, to the delightful story that dwells within my heart.” After eight days, opening his eyes from meditation, he beheld Śivā, who had entered into deep sleep. “How many verses have you heard?” he asked, and Jagadambikā, the Mother of the Universe, replied. A parrot, dwelling in the hollow of a tree, had heard this sacred narration and, by its merit, attained great longevity. Remaining in Śiva’s abode, the parrot became absorbed in deep meditation upon me. Through this, he realized the greatness and the rare value of the Bhāgavata. Now, having reached the banks of the holy Narmadā, the auspicious story was to be narrated. “This story,” it was said, “should be given to a worthy recipient—a wise devotee of Viṣṇu.” Having spoken thus, the god Bopadeva, his mind serene and at peace, vanished from sight. Thus concludes the thirty-second chapter in the compendium of the history of the Kali Age, in the section called Caturyuga-khanda-aparaparyaya, within the Pratisarga Parva of the glorious Bhavishya Mahapurana. Desiring to understand the vastness of all the Vedas, the question was asked, “By which hymn may one obtain the fruit of reciting the Vedas?” There was a man known as Vyadhakarma, born from a Śūdra in a Brahmin woman—the wife of a twice-born who recited the three Vedas, her name was Kamini. Seeking a livelihood, her husband, the twice-born, once departed to recite the Saptashati hymn. Time passed; a month went by, and he did not return to his home. During his absence, Kamini encountered a strong Nishada, a hunter who made his living by carrying wood. She conceived by him, receiving the seed of the hunter. Twelve years later, the boy, lacking Vedic learning and considered wicked, was expelled by the twice-born, along with his mother—both cast out from the community. Every day, the twice-born recited the Candika hymn, dwelling on Mount Vindhya. Meanwhile, Kamini and her son lived happily in the house of the Nishada, having gone to the forest. The boy, engaged in the work of a hunter, pleased his parents through his earnings, even by theft. Addicted to a life of stealing, he brought ornaments for a woman and once obtained garments belonging to a twice-born. Yet, through the power of reciting sacred texts, his mind gradually turned toward righteousness. He became a disciple and began to chant the Maisha syllable. Reciting a garland of sacred syllables, he sang of the deeds of Adi, the primordial one. With supreme joy and devotion, he praised Annapurna, the great goddess. Thus, the story unfolds, revealing the transformative power of devotion, the greatness of sacred knowledge, and the enduring glory of the divine.