Narayana, assuming the form of Shankhacuda, spent his days delighting in the company of his beloved Tulasi. But then, by his own divine maya, Hari took from Shankhacuda the protective armor he wore. Approaching the entrance to Tulasi's dwelling, Hari began to play the drum, its resonant sound filling the air. Hearing this auspicious music, Tulasi, the virtuous lady, was overwhelmed with supreme joy. In her happiness, she gave gifts of wealth to the brahmins and arranged for auspicious rituals to be performed. Soon, the Lord himself descended from his chariot and entered the goddess Tulasi’s residence. There, before her eyes, stood her beloved—peaceful and enchanting. Seeing him, Tulasi’s heart overflowed with joy. With great affection, she seated him upon a beautiful jeweled lion-throne, her passion and happiness evident. “Today my birth is fulfilled; today my actions have borne fruit,” she thought, smiling with sidelong glances, her body trembling with desire and delight. With reverence, Tulasi addressed her beloved, “O ocean of compassion, tell me—how was victory achieved?” Hearing her words, the Lord of Lakshmi smiled gently and replied, “O beautiful one, all the Danavas have been destroyed. And it was Brahma himself who caused this love to arise between us. Now, I have returned to my own abode, and Shiva has gone to his. There, in my realm, I enjoyed the company of Rama, while Narada pondered all that had transpired and asked, ‘Who are you, truly?’” Tulasi then spoke again, her voice trembling, “Either my chastity has been taken, or I must curse you.” Effortlessly, Hari revealed his own most enchanting form—dark as a fresh raincloud, with eyes like autumn lotuses, radiating the beauty of ten million Cupids and adorned with dazzling jeweled ornaments. Overcome by desire at the sight of him, Tulasi, in playful abandon, fainted. Regaining her senses, she cried out, “O Lord, you have no compassion; your heart is like stone! Because you are so unfeeling, you are devoid of mercy. Those who call you an ocean of compassion are certainly mistaken. You are all-knowing, yet you do not understand the suffering of others.” Having spoken thus, the great and virtuous Tulasi fell at the feet of Hari. Seeing her deep compassion, the ocean of mercy was moved. Then, Shri Bhagavan spoke tenderly, “For your sake, Shankhacuda performed severe austerities for a long time. Having made you a woman, he enjoyed pleasure with you, and from that act, its destined result has come. Now, leaving behind this mortal body, you will assume a divine form. This body of yours will become a sacred river, renowned as the Gandaki. And the mass of your hair will become the sacred tulasi trees. “In all the three worlds, your flowers and leaves will be used in the worship of the gods—in heaven, on earth, in the netherworld, and in Vaikuntha, in my very presence. In Goloka, on the bank of the Viraja, at the divine dance, and in Vrindavana on earth, in groves of madhavi, ketaki, kunda, mallika, and malati flowers, and at the root of the tulasi tree, in every holy place—O supremely holy one—there indeed is the abiding place of all the gods. “One who bathes in your river is as if bathed in all sacred waters and initiated in all sacrifices. Even with a thousand pots of nectar, such satisfaction for Hari cannot be attained as from worship with your leaves.” Thus did the Lord honor Tulasi, bestowing upon her an eternal place in the hearts of the gods and devotees, sanctifying her form and presence throughout the universe.