Amidst the trials of countless ailments, which appeared and vanished like bubbles upon water, the king’s mind arose with a singular purpose: to worship Vishnu. Though surrounded by suffering, his devotion shone forth undiminished. Blessed indeed was this king, adorned with every virtue; blessed was the earth itself, with its people, mountains, forests, and groves, all thriving under his righteous rule. The cities, villages, and towns flourished, each adorned by the four castes, and all were protected by this tiger among kings, who watched over his subjects with care. Then, a voice called out to him: “Come, come, O greatly fortunate one! Rest beneath this tree, whose shade is cool and pleasant. Stay with me, and let us share stories rooted in dharma.” At that moment, the king’s companion arrived—a master artisan, peerless in skill, equal even to Vishvakarma himself. The Brahmin said, “He will craft the images as I instruct. Leave the shore and come here.” Hearing these words, the king, twice-born, left the ocean’s edge and approached the Brahmin. Standing beneath the tree’s soothing shade, the king listened as the universal soul, hidden in the form of a Brahmin, gave instructions to the chief artisan. “Make three images,” he said. “The first shall be Krishna, supremely peaceful, his eyes wide like lotus petals. He shall bear the marks of Shrivatsa and Kaustubha, hold the conch, discus, and mace, and his fair body shall resemble milk. The second image, marked with a swastika, shall be Ananta, the god wielding the plough and weapons, of great strength, unknown even to gods, demons, gandharvas, yakshas, vidyadharas, and serpents. His end is unknown, hence he is called Ananta. The third image shall be Subhadra, Vasudeva’s sister, radiant with a golden hue and adorned with all auspicious marks.” Upon hearing these instructions, Vishvakarma, the doer of good deeds, immediately began his work. First, he fashioned an image with a white complexion, shining like the autumn moon, red eyes, a large body, and a broad, crystal-like head. This figure wore blue garments, fierce and overflowing with strength and pride, adorned with a single earring, divine, and holding a mace and club. The second image had lotus-like eyes, dark as a rain cloud, resembling the flax flower, with eyes wide like lotus petals. Clad in yellow garments, exceedingly fierce and auspicious, bearing the mark of Shrivatsa, holding a discus in his full hand—this was Hari, the remover of all sins. The third image shone with a golden hue, her eyes long as lotus petals, covered in wondrous garments, adorned with necklaces and armlets, hung with strings of jeweled necklaces. Her full and prominent breasts made her lovely to behold, and Vishvakarma fashioned her with great care. The king gazed upon these wondrous creations, made in but a moment, each covered in pairs of divine garments and adorned with jewels. These images, endowed with all auspicious marks, supremely enchanting and filled with wonder, spoke to him. “Who are you two divine beings,” the king asked, “who have assumed the form of Brahmins and perform such wondrous deeds? Are you gods or humans, or perhaps Yakshas or Vidyadharas? Are you Brahma and Hrishikesha, or the Vasus, or even the Ashvins? I do not know your true nature, whether real or illusory; you stand here in a magical form. I have come to you for refuge—reveal to me your true self.” The Brahmin replied, “I am not a god, nor a Yaksha, nor a demon, nor the king of the gods; I am not Brahma, nor Rudra. Know me as the Supreme Person, the remover of suffering for all worlds, of infinite strength and power, worthy of worship by all beings, whose end is unknown. I am spoken of in all scriptures, declared in the Upanishads, whom the yogis say is attainable by knowledge—Vasudeva. I myself am Brahma, I am Vishnu, I am also Shiva. I am Indra, king of the gods, and Yama, the controller of the world. I am the elements beginning with earth, the three sacrificial fires, the enjoyer of offerings; I am Varuna, lord of waters, the earth, and the mountain. Whatever exists in speech in the world, all that is moving and unmoving—this entire universe—there is nothing apart from me. I am pleased with you, best of kings; choose a boon, O virtuous one. Whatever you desire, I shall grant—whatever is established in your heart. My vision does not arise even in dreams for the unworthy; but you, through firm devotion, have seen me directly.” Hearing these words of Vasudeva, the king, his body bristling with joy, sang a hymn of praise: “O beloved of Shri, obeisance to you! Lord of Shri, clad in yellow garments, giver of prosperity, lord of fortune, abode of Shri, I bow to you, dwelling place of Shri. I bow to the primordial person, the ruler, the lord of all, facing everywhere, without division, the supreme god, eternal. Beyond sound, beyond qualities, free from existence and non-existence, unstained, without attributes, subtle, all-knowing, the source of all things. Resembling a rain cloud, devoted to the welfare of cows and Brahmins, protector of all, pervading everything, the creator of all beings. I salute the god who holds the conch and discus, who bears the mace and club, the giver of boons, whose hue is like a blue lotus petal. I bow to Hari, who reclines on the serpent couch, who rests in the ocean of milk, Hrishikesha, remover of all sins. Again I salute you, lord of gods, giver of boons, all-pervading Vishnu, ruler of all worlds, cause of liberation, imperishable.” Thus, in reverence and awe, the king praised the Supreme Person, whose presence had been revealed to him through steadfast devotion.