In every enchanting place, amidst secluded flower gardens abounding in beauty, and on the auspicious riverbanks where the air was still and mesmerizing, the season of spring flourished. The sweet hum of bees filled the air, and the divine gardens, sacred forests, and sandalwood groves radiated their charm. Groves of jasmine, mālatī, and blooming lotuses stretched in every direction. In a secluded golden sanctuary atop the blessed golden mountain, on beds woven from fragrant flowers and sandalwood—where the melodious calls of male cuckoos echoed—the lover, moved by deep desire, delighted in the company of his beloved Rāma. With offerings and devotion, the path of Krishna grew ever more radiant, and the passion between the two blossomed. Together, they created delightful places for play, returning again and again to enjoy these sanctuaries. For an entire Manvantara, the mighty king of kings ruled with unrivaled power. He governed over the Gandharvas, Kinnaras, and Rakshasas, seizing their domains of worship and their offerings by force. As a result, all the gods became inert, as if they were painted dolls, their vitality stolen. Mourning their loss, they recounted their sorrows and wept bitterly, time and again. The Creator, hearing their lamentations, went to Chandrasekhara and told him everything that had transpired. The Creator then beheld the supreme and exceedingly rare abode—a realm that dispels old age and death. At its entrance, he saw gatekeepers seated upon jeweled thrones, adorned with garlands woven from forest flowers, their forms dark and beautiful, their faces lotus-like, smiling with enchanting lotus eyes. With gracious permission from these guardians, the Creator entered, and by their command, was led into the assembly of Hari. Within, all present appeared in the form of Nārāyaṇa, each adorned with the radiant Kaustubha gem. The grand hall shone with the essence of precious jewels, its brilliance rivaling that of diamonds. Rows of ruby garlands and lines of pearls adorned its expanse, while intricate designs and marvelous patterns of every kind decorated the walls and floors. A hundred stairways, crafted by Syamantaka, rose in splendor, surrounded by pillars of indranīla gems of exceptional beauty. The air was fragrant with garlands and clusters of pārijāta blossoms, and gentle breezes carried sweet scents throughout the hall. Vast beyond measure, a thousand yojanas in length, it was filled with countless attendants. At the very center of this resplendent region, like Indra surrounded by stars, sat the Lord—crowned, adorned with earrings and a garland of forest flowers. His complexion was dark as a fresh raincloud, captivating to behold, his body anointed with sandalwood, and in his hand, he held a lotus of play. Gaṅgā herself attended him with supreme devotion, waving white fly-whisks in service. Witnessing this distinguished and utterly complete Lord, those present felt their bodies thrill with awe; their eyes filled with tears, and their voices trembled in reverence. The Creator of worlds, with hands joined in deep respect, stood before Hari. Hearing the words of the Creator, Hari—who knows all hearts, who is all-knowing—listened with compassion and understanding.