The wise were gathered, and a profound question arose: How is it that the guṇas—those fundamental qualities of nature—though each established in its own domain and seemingly opposed to one another, work together in continuous action? How do they, despite their differences, unite in a single place and perform their tasks as if enemies suddenly allied? To this, Brahmā replied, “Listen, my son, and I shall explain. The guṇas are like the elements of a lamp. Consider how a lamp shines forth its light: the wick, the oil, and the flame are each distinct, each with its own nature, and in fact, they are mutually opposed. Oil and fire naturally resist each other, and the wick, too, stands apart from both. Yet, when brought together in harmony, they illuminate the world. In the same way, the guṇas, though different and often in conflict, unite to reveal the universe.” Nārada, addressing Vyāsa, continued, “Thus have the guṇas, born of nature, been described to you. They are indeed the very cause of the universe, as I have heard before.” Vyāsa affirmed, “All that Nārada explained to me—every detail of the guṇas, their characteristics, their divisions, and the supreme power that pervades all—has been revealed. This supreme power, the Goddess, is both with qualities and without, ever adapting to the work at hand. The Puruṣa, the Supreme Spirit, remains untouched—non-acting, complete, indifferent, the imperishable witness.” “This great Māyā, the Divine Mother, creates the universe, both the manifest and the unmanifest. It is by her power that Brahmā, Viṣṇu, Rudra, Sūrya, Candra, and Indra, the lord of Śacī, arise. The Aśvins, the Vasus, Tvaṣṭṛ, Kubera, Varuṇa, Agni, Vāyu, Pūṣā, the commander of the gods’ armies, and Vināyaka—all these deities act only through her energy. Without her, even they would be powerless, unable to move or act.” “She alone, O king, is the cause of the world, the supreme Goddess. Worship her, O lord of men, and perform sacrifice. With supreme devotion, honor her according to the sacred rites. She is Mahālakṣmī, Mahākālī, and Mahāsarasvatī. She is the goddess of all beings, the cause of all causes, the granter of every desire. Peaceful, compassionate, easily propitiated—merely speaking her name brings blessings.” “The gods themselves—Brahmā, Viṣṇu, and Maheśvara—have worshipped her in times past. Ascetics seeking liberation, self-controlled and pure, have honored her in countless ways. Even if her name is spoken indistinctly or mentioned in passing, she grants the deepest wishes, even those most difficult to attain. When one, terrified in the forest by a tiger or wild beast, cries out ‘ai ai’ in fear, even that incomplete utterance moves her to bestow protection and boons.” “In this context, the story of Satyavrata is well known among the sages. His example is often cited in learned assemblies. Let me tell you his tale, as it was told to me: Satyavrata was a Brahmin, ignorant and unlettered. Once, he heard a sacred syllable from the mouth of a Kolan, a member of a lower caste. He repeated it himself, omitting the dot in the pronunciation, and by this simple act, he was transformed—becoming, by the grace of the Goddess, a foremost sage among the wise.” “By uttering just the vowel ‘ai,’ the compassionate Goddess was pleased. She, the supreme Lady, made him king of poets, bestowing wisdom and eloquence upon him.” Hearing this wondrous account, King Janamejaya asked eagerly, “Who was this Brahmin Satyavrata, O best of the twice-born? In what land was he born, and what was his nature? How did he come to hear the sacred word, and how did he repeat it? What blessing did he receive at that very moment? How was Bhavānī, the all-knowing and all-pervading, pleased? Please, narrate this delightful story in detail.” Thus questioned, Sūta continued the narration: Vyāsa, son of Satyavatī, spoke words full of purity and wisdom, saying, “O king, listen to this ancient and sacred tale, which I myself once heard among a great gathering of sages. Once, while on pilgrimage to holy places, I arrived at the Naimisha forest, a place sanctified by the presence of many sages. There, in the hermitage where the sons of Brahmā, liberated while living, observed their vows, I bowed to all and took my seat.” “In that assembly of learned Brahmins, a discussion arose. The sage Jamadagni, after taking his place, voiced a question that troubled his mind: ‘O blessed ascetics, among the many deities—Brahmā, Viṣṇu, Rudra, Indra, Varuṇa, Agni, Kubera, Vāyu, Tvaṣṭṛ, the commander of the gods, the lord of hosts, Sūrya, the Aśvins, Bhaga, Pūṣā, the lord of night, and the planets—who is most worthy of worship, the bestower of all desired fruits? Who is easiest to serve, quickly pleased, and grants honor to devotees? Let the wise among you answer swiftly.’” “When this question was asked, the sage Lomasha spoke: ‘O Jamadagni, listen well. The supreme power, most worthy of worship by all who seek auspiciousness, is the Supreme Prakṛti—the primordial, all-pervading, ever-auspicious Goddess. She alone is the mother of the gods, including the great souls like Brahmā. She is the root of primordial nature, the very source of the tree of worldly existence. When remembered or named, she grants all desires; she is always compassionate and, when worshipped, bestows boons.’” “Now, let me recount a story to illustrate this truth. In the land of Kosala, there lived a Brahmin named Devadatta. Childless and desiring a son, he performed a ritual sacrifice according to the sacred rules, seeking to fulfill his heart’s wish.” Thus the tale unfolds, revealing the supreme compassion and power of the Goddess, who responds to the simplest utterance of her name, and whose grace transforms even the humblest devotee.