Troubled by many thoughts, the merchant sat motionless upon the earth, his spirit weighed down as if he had fallen into a vast ocean of sorrow. Thus he remained, his heart heavy and his body inert. As night descended and the moon rose on the eleventh day of the bright fortnight, Vibhīṣaṇa arrived at that place. Having performed the prescribed worship of the Lord of Yoga and bathed in the sacred Gautamī Gaṅgā, Vibhīṣaṇa came, accompanied by his son and surrounded by a retinue of Rākṣasas. His son, renowned as Vaibhīṣaṇi—a second Vibhīṣaṇa in form—saw the merchant and spoke with him. Hearing the merchant’s words, Vaibhīṣaṇi, righteous and attentive, reported everything to his father, the great-souled Lord of Laṅkā. Pleased, Vibhīṣaṇa spoke to his virtuous son: “Rāma, illustrious and noble, is my teacher, and Hanumān, famed throughout the worlds, is his honored friend as well as mine. It was Hanumān who once brought the great mountain. Long ago, when another task arose, that mountain—the refuge of all healing herbs—was brought by Hanumān to Himavat, when the need was dire. With his great intelligence, Hanumān brought the Viśalyakaraṇī and the Mṛtasaṃjīvanī herbs for Rāma, whose deeds are tireless. Having accomplished that mission and reported to Rāma, Hanumān returned the mountain to its divine place. “Now, bring that herb and place it upon the merchant’s heart, remembering Hari. Then this noble-minded one will obtain all that he desires.” Swiftly, as Vaibhīṣaṇi went, the Viśalyakaraṇī herb again fell upon the bank of the Gautamī, where Hari, the Lord of Yoga, was present. Vaibhīṣaṇi’s father urged him, “Show that herb quickly to the merchant; do not delay. There is no greater good in all the three worlds than relieving another’s suffering.” Vibhīṣaṇa, agreeing, showed the herb to his son and said, “Take it.” Out of affection for the merchant and devotion to the welfare of others, Vaibhīṣaṇi cut a branch from the sacred tree. Where the powerful tree had fallen upon the mountain, he took a piece and placed it at the merchant’s heart. By merely touching it, the merchant would regain his own form. Obedient to his father’s words, Vaibhīṣaṇi, noble-minded, did as instructed and placed the piece of wood accordingly. In that moment, the merchant’s sight was restored, and he became whole again. For the potency of gems, mantras, and herbs is not easily grasped by anyone. Grateful and righteous, the merchant took that very piece of wood, bathed in the Gautamī Gaṅgā, and worshipped Hari, the Lord of Yoga, mindful of virtue. Having bowed in reverence, the merchant set out once more, carrying the piece of wood as he wandered into the great city known as Nṛpapura. There, a king named Mahārāja ruled with great might. He had no son, but only a daughter—his only child—who had lost her sight. This daughter undertook a solemn vow: whether god, demon, brāhmaṇa, kṣatriya, vaiśya, or śūdra—regardless of qualities or birth—she would be given in marriage to whoever restored her sight. The king proclaimed throughout his realm that his daughter, along with the kingdom, would be given to the one who could restore her vision. Day and night, a vaiśya heard this proclamation and declared, “I will restore the princess’s sight, without any doubt.” Swiftly, the vaiśya was brought before the great king. At the mere touch of the piece of wood, the king’s daughter regained her sight. Astonished, the king asked, “Who are you?” The vaiśya recounted everything that had happened, leaving nothing out. He explained, “By the grace of brāhmaṇas, by righteousness and austerity, by the power of giving and sacrifices rich in offerings, and by the potency of divine herbs, I have attained this ability.” Hearing these words, the king was filled with wonder. “Ah, what a man of great power is this! He must surely be a divine being, for who else could possess such ability? Therefore, I will give him my daughter and the kingdom.” Having resolved thus, the king gave both his daughter and the kingdom to the vaiśya, and departed to seek pleasure as he wished. Yet soon, he fell into deep distress, for without a friend, there is no kingdom; without a friend, there is no happiness. Constantly thinking of the brāhmaṇa, the son of the vaiśya was filled with longing. Such is the mark of the well-born among embodied beings on earth: their hearts are ever tender with compassion, even toward those who have wronged them. In time, the great king Maṇikuṇḍala went to the forest. While he was ruling the kingdom, he once met the brāhmaṇa Gautama. Maṇikuṇḍala, having lost his wealth to wicked gamblers, saw his brāhmaṇa friend, welcomed him, and honored him, for he was learned in righteousness. He spoke to him of the power of virtue and bathed him in the sacred Gaṅgā to remove all sins. Surrounded by the brāhmaṇa and his kinsmen, by vaiśyas from his own land, and by the brāhmaṇa’s relatives, and with elders led by Kauśika, in the presence of the Lord of Yogis, Maṇikuṇḍala performed sacrifices and worshipped the gods. Thereafter, he attained heaven. From that time, that sacred place has been known as “the reviver of the dead,” the holy site of vision, the Lord of Yogis. Even by remembering it, one attains merit; it brings peace of mind and destroys all evil thoughts. Nearby, the holy place called Urvaśī bestows the fruit of an Aśvamedha sacrifice through bathing, giving gifts, and worship of Mahādeva and Vāsudeva, and similar acts. There, where Maheśvara and Hari, the wielder of the Śārṅga bow, reside, there lived a king named Pramati, a universal sovereign of great might. Having conquered his enemies, King Pramati quickly ascended to Indra’s realm, surrounded by the gods. There, O Nārada, he beheld the Lord of the Gods together with the Maruts.