Brahman, which lies beyond the six waves of worldly existence, is realized only by mastering oneself. This is the path I have forged, the way by which I have conquered that overwhelming craving for desire—may shame fall upon it. For today, I see that all vows, the very Vedas, and every noble cause have been undone by desire, which leads only to the village of hell. Yet, even in my anger, I will not reduce you to ashes, for we have shared the sacred seven steps of friendship, as is the way among the virtuous. Or else, what fault is truly yours? What could I do to you? The blame lies with me alone, for I have not mastered my own senses. Just as my austerities, intoxicated by pride, were wasted in seeking Śakra’s favor, so too have I become contemptible by succumbing to your glance, which brought with it great delusion. As the sage spoke thus to the woman with the slender waist, she trembled, sweat pouring from her body, and was greatly agitated. Seeing her in this state—her vine-like form glistening with sweat—the eminent sage, his anger stirred, commanded her, “Go, go!” Thus rebuked, she departed from the hermitage, moving swiftly through the sky, wiping her sweat with the leaves of the trees as she went. The young woman moved from tree to tree, using the tender red leaves to wipe away the sweat that dripped from her body. Then, by the sage’s power, a seed was placed within her, and it emerged from her limbs in the form of sweat. The trees received that embryo, and the wind united it; nourished by Soma and by cows, it gradually grew. From the trees, a maiden was born—her name was Māriṣā, beautiful-eyed. She became the wife of the Prācetasa and the mother of Dakṣa, O twice-born one. When his austerities were spent, the blessed sage Kaṇḍu, O best of sages, journeyed to the holy abode of Viṣṇu known as Puruṣottama. There, on the southern shore of the ocean, he beheld the supreme field—a place bestowing liberation, rare upon earth, and granting all desired fruits. The land was delightful, with soft sands, groves of ketakī, a wealth of trees and vines, and the sweet calls of many auspicious birds. Everywhere, it was easy to traverse, adorned with flowers of every season, a source of happiness and virtue for all. This sacred field had long been revered by Bhṛgu and other sages, by siddhas, gandharvas, kinnaras, yakṣas, and others who sought liberation. There, Kaṇḍu saw Hari, adorned by all the gods and served by Brahmins of every caste, as well as those dwelling in hermitages. Upon beholding that sacred place and the Supreme Lord, the sage felt his life’s purpose fulfilled. With unwavering concentration, Kaṇḍu began to worship Hari, reciting the supreme Brahman-chant with single-pointed focus, standing with arms raised in deep yogic devotion. O sage, we too long to hear about that supreme and auspicious Brahman-chant by which Kaṇḍu worshipped Keshava. Know that Viṣṇu is the Supreme—beyond the beyond, limitless, transcending all. He is the highest Self, the ultimate Brahman, the greatest among the great, and even beyond what is beyond. He is the cause, yet abides within the cause of causes; he is the reason even for that, the final source of all; though he is the effect, he manifests in countless forms as the doer of all actions. He is Brahman, the Lord, the essence of all beings, the imperishable master of creatures, eternal and unborn, unattached to all that perishes. Just as he is the imperishable, unborn, eternal Brahman—the supreme person—so may my own passions and faults be calmed within me. Hearing the sage’s recitation of the supreme Brahman-chant, and recognizing his unwavering devotion, the Supreme Person was moved. With supreme affection for his devotee, the Lord—he who delights in his worshippers—approached Kaṇḍu. His voice, deep as thunder and resounding in all directions, he arrived mounted upon Garuḍa, son of Vinatā. “O sage,” he said, “speak your highest wish, whatever lies in your heart. I have come to grant boons—choose your blessing, O steadfast one.” Hearing these words from the Lord of gods, the wielder of the discus, Kaṇḍu opened his eyes and beheld Hari standing before him. He saw the Lord, radiant as the flax flower, with eyes wide as lotus petals, holding conch, discus, and mace, adorned with a crown and armlets. He stood with four arms, noble limbs, clad in yellow garments, marked with the auspicious Śrīvatsa, and garlanded with forest flowers. Endowed with every auspicious sign, adorned with all jewels, his divine form anointed with celestial sandalwood and draped with heavenly garlands. Overwhelmed with wonder, Kaṇḍu’s hair stood on end. He prostrated himself upon the ground and offered his respects. “Today my birth is fulfilled,” he declared, “today my austerity bears fruit.” And he began to praise the Lord: “O Nārāyaṇa, O Hari, O Krishna, bearer of the Śrīvatsa mark, Lord of the universe, seed and abode and witness of all—salutations to you! Unmanifest, victorious, source of all, supreme among Purushas, lotus-eyed Govinda, Lord of the worlds, I bow to you. Hiranyagarbha, Lord of fortune, Lord of the lotus, eternal one, womb of the earth, steadfast ruler, master of the senses, I bow to you. Without beginning or end, immortal, unconquered, victorious among the victorious, indivisible, Shri Krishna, abode of fortune, I bow to you. Creator of rain and righteousness, difficult to cross, firmly established, destroyer of suffering and distress, Hari who lies upon the waters, I bow to you.” Thus, his heart overflowing with devotion, the sage worshipped the Lord, who delights in his devotees.