The foremost practitioner, seeking spiritual excellence, should sustain himself with simple, pure foods—barley, wheat, roots, fruits, cakes, gruel, or milk, as befitting the best of Brahmins. Clad in bark and a loincloth, living with senses controlled and mind absorbed in meditation, he dwells in solitude: perhaps in a forest, on a mountain, at the confluence of rivers, on barren ground, in a sacred place, or within a Narasimha hermitage. There, having established either the image of Narasimha or himself as the focus, he performs worship according to prescribed rules. On the twelfth day of the bright fortnight, after fasting, the sage recites the mantra two hundred thousand times, with mind and senses firmly restrained. Through this practice, even those afflicted by minor or major sins are freed; there is no doubt—the practitioner finds liberation. After circumambulating the sacred spot, he worships Narasimha with fragrant offerings and incense, bowing his head reverently to the Lord. Jasmine flowers, anointed with camphor and sandalwood, are placed upon Narasimha’s head, and thus success is attained. The Blessed Lord Narasimha is never obstructed in any undertaking; even Brahma, Rudra, and the other gods cannot withstand his radiance. What then of demons, siddhas, gandharvas, humans, vidyādharas, yakṣas, kinnaras, or great serpents? Those who recite mantras to destroy the asuras perish upon witnessing the brilliance of the sun and fire. If the divine armor is recited once, it protects against all calamities; twice, it guards against gods and demons. Recited three times, it becomes impenetrable by gods and demons alike, protecting the practitioner within twelve yojanas. The mighty Narasimha protects the devotee. After fasting for three nights at the entrance of a cave, the practitioner kindles a fire with palāśa wood and offers palāśa sticks soaked in three kinds of honey to the blessed Fire. He makes two hundred offerings with the vaṣaṭ formula, and instantly the entrance to the cave becomes manifest. Now, wearing the divine armor, the wise practitioner enters the opening without fear; as he proceeds, all distress and delusion fall away. He beholds a royal road, broad and adorned with bees, and remembering Narasimha, the twice-born enter Pātāla. Upon arrival, the immutable essence named Narasimha is recited, and thousands of women, playing the vīṇā, come forth to greet the brahmins. They take the master of practitioners by the hand and lead him inside, where they give him divine elixir to drink. Upon drinking, a divine body arises within him, endowed with great strength. He plays with the maidens until the dissolution of creation; then, his separate body merges into Vāsudeva—there is no doubt about this. When the dwelling no longer pleases him, he departs, taking cloth, spear, sword, rocanā, and a jewel. He also takes the essence, the elixir, sandals, collyrium, black antelope skin, and a delightful pill. The accomplished master gathers the water pot, rosary, staff, reviving herb, perfected knowledge, and scriptures. If he places in his heart, even once, the three-pointed mantra surrounded by blazing sparks of fire, it burns away all sin accumulated over millions of births. If poison is placed upon poison, it destroys it; the practice also cures leprosy present in the body. Even after committing acts like abortion on oneself, one is purified by the divine practice. When afflicted by malefic planets, one contemplates the blazing mantra at the heart’s end, and those fierce planets are quickly destroyed. Tied around the necks of children, the mantra acts as constant protection, destroying swelling, tumors, and boils. When disease arises, one performs oblations with sacred sticks and clarified butter mixed with milk at the three junctions of the day for a month, and all diseases are destroyed. In the three worlds, moving or unmoving, nothing is incurable; whatever accomplishment the practitioner desires, he surely attains. Some, after worshipping the Lord of Beasts one hundred and eight times, take seven clods of earth from an anthill, a cremation ground, and a crossroads. Mixing them with red sandalwood and cow’s milk, they fashion an image of a lion, measuring six finger-breadths. On birch bark, the mantra is inscribed with yellow pigment, and the knower of mantras ties it on the neck of Narasimha. He recites the mantra without counting, worshipping at a body of water, and for seven days, with controlled senses, continues the recitation. In a moment, the whole earth becomes flooded with water; or, he worships Narasimha atop a dry tree. Having recited the essence one hundred and eight times, he can stop the rain; tying it in a casket, the excellent practitioner whirls it. A great wind arises in a moment—of this there is no doubt. Again, he quickly holds it with water seven or seventy times. Then, the practitioner buries the image at the doorway of whomever he wishes; that person’s lineage is destroyed, and when the image is removed, peace is restored. Therefore, O tiger among sages, one should always worship with devotion the mighty Lion Lord, Narasimha, who grants all desired fruits.