After speaking these words, the illustrious Hari vanished from sight, leaving the king in awe, his mind filled with wonder at the vision he had just witnessed. That night, unable to shake the memory of his dream, the king remained absorbed in thought, reciting Vaishnava mantras and hymns that echoed the divine message he had received. As dawn broke and the night slipped away, the king rose with an unwavering mind. He performed his ablutions in the ocean, following every sacred rite with care. His heart brimming with devotion, he then gave generous gifts and villages to the Brahmins, completed his morning rituals, and prepared to depart. The mighty king set out alone—no horse, no elephant, no charioteer, no army accompanied him. With only his purpose as company, he entered the vast expanse of the shore. There, upon the great bank, he beheld a wondrous sight: a mighty and radiant tree of immense height and girth, sacred and vast, lying dormant near the water’s edge. Its color was deep like madder, and it seemed to belong to no known species, bearing no name. Filled with joy at this discovery, the king, lord among men, took up a sharp and sturdy axe and began to cut the tree, intending to split it in two. As he gazed at the wood, a marvelous vision unfolded before him: two radiant Brahmins appeared together—none other than Visvakarma and Vishnu themselves, shining with their own inner brilliance, adorned with divine garlands and ointments. Approaching the king, Indra’s friend, the two Brahmins addressed him: “O great king, what are you doing here? For what reason, mighty-armed one, have you cut down this tree? Alone, in this vast wilderness, on the dense forested bank of the great river, what brings you to fell this tree?” Hearing their gentle inquiry, the king was filled with joy. He spoke to them softly and sweetly, bowing low before the two who shone like the sun and the moon, recognizing them as lords of the world. With head bowed in reverence, he said, “To worship the god of gods, the beginningless and endless lord of all creation, I wish to fashion an image. At the end of a dream, that supreme divine one instructed me—and now, you both have revealed yourselves to make this known.” Hearing the king’s words, the lord of the universe smiled with pleasure and addressed him: “Excellent, excellent, O king, is this supreme resolve of yours, in this dreadful ocean of worldly existence, which is as insubstantial as a banana leaf. In this world, filled with sorrow, overwhelmed by desire and anger, caught in the whirlpool of the senses, beset by countless diseases like water bubbles, your mind has arisen for the worship of Vishnu. Blessed are you, foremost of kings, adorned with all virtues! Blessed is the earth with its people, mountains, forests, and groves. Blessed, too, are its cities, villages, and towns, adorned by the four castes, where you, tiger among kings, protect the people as their lord. “Come, come, greatly fortunate one! Sit here with me beneath this pleasantly cool tree, and let us share stories rooted in dharma. My companion here is the foremost among artisans, as skilled as Visvakarma himself, capable in all tasks. He will fashion the image according to my instructions—so leave the shore.” Hearing these words, the twice-born king left the ocean’s edge and drew near to them. Standing beneath the cool, sheltering shade of the great tree, the universal soul, now in the form of a Brahmin, instructed the chief artisan: “Create the images. The first—Krishna himself—should be supremely peaceful, with eyes wide like lotus petals, bearing the marks of Shrivatsa and Kaustubha, holding conch, discus, and mace, his fair body shining like milk, the second marked with a swastika. Next, the god Ananta, wielder of the plough and weapons, of immense strength, unknown even to gods, demons, gandharvas, yakshas, vidyadharas, or serpents—his end is not known, thus he is called Ananta. The third is Subhadra, the golden-hued sister of Vasudeva, adorned with all auspicious marks.” At once, hearing these instructions, Vishvakarma, doer of good deeds, set to work creating the auspicious images. First, he fashioned one with a white complexion, radiant like the autumn moon, with red eyes, a large body, and a broad, crystal-like head. Clad in blue garments, fierce and brimming with strength and pride, this form bore a single earring, held mace and club, and glowed with divinity. The second image he shaped with lotus-like eyes, dark as a rain cloud, resembling the blossom of the flax plant, eyes wide as lotus petals. This form wore yellow garments, fierce yet auspicious, marked with the Śrīvatsa, holding a discus in his full hand—Hari himself, remover of all sins. The third figure shone with a golden hue, her eyes long as lotus petals, covered in wondrous garments, adorned with necklaces and armlets, strings of jeweled ornaments, and full, prominent breasts—Subhadra, lovely and auspicious. The king gazed upon these wondrous creations, brought forth in but a moment, clothed in pairs of divine garments and adorned with various jewels, marveling at the skill and grace that had given form to his vision.