At that sacred time, the beautiful city was adorned with parched grain and many other offerings, its streets and homes radiant with festive decoration. The air vibrated with the triumphant sound of thousands of conches and the deep, rolling thunder of drums. Young women, resplendent in their youth, sang melodious songs, their voices sweet and uplifting. As the son of Vasudeva entered, they showered him with a rain of fragrant flowers, honoring him with their devotion. In the midst of this celebration, the great yogi—Krishna—sat upon a splendid throne, his presence luminous, surrounded by goddesses. Around him gathered his chief sons and a multitude of women, all offering their reverence. Krishna shone with Mālā, his consort, beside him, radiating the majesty of the divine couple. The assembly included ancient and illustrious sages, the twice-born such as Mārkaṇḍeya, who had come to witness and honor the occasion. When Hari, the Lord, saw the revered sages, he rose respectfully, bowed his head, and offered his own seat to them. Graciously, he granted them the boons they desired and, with blessings, dismissed them. Afterwards, having bathed and donned spotless white garments, Krishna stood before the Sun with hands joined in reverence. He offered libations to the gods, the hosts of sages, and his ancestors, fulfilling his sacred duties. With devotion, Krishna worshipped Bhūteśa—Lord Shiva—who, adorned with holy ashes, abides in the liṅga. He then fed the foremost of sages and honored the brāhmaṇas according to tradition. Surrounded by his sons and companions, Krishna engaged in the telling of auspicious Purāṇic tales, filling the atmosphere with the nectar of sacred stories. At this moment, the sage Mārkaṇḍeya, smiling kindly, addressed Krishna with gentle words. “Tell me,” he said, “you who are worshipped through deeds and are the object of meditation for yogis. The Lord was born in the Vṛṣṇi clan for the purpose of relieving the earth’s burden.” As Krishna’s sons listened intently, he began to speak, his face brightened by a smile. Mārkaṇḍeya continued, “Still, I worship the eternal Lord, the god of gods. Even so, knowing this supreme Śiva, I worship the Lord. Realizing him as the root of my own self, I worship him. Thus, for the welfare of the worlds, one should worship Śiva in the liṅga. Therefore, I worship the Lord of self with my own self. O shining one, there is no difference between us; this is the conclusion of the Vedas. Maheśvara, in the liṅga, is to be meditated upon, worshipped, honored, and known. Tell me, O Krishna of wide eyes, for this profound matter is truly supreme. The Vedas declare the great Lord, the imperishable God, as the one who bears the liṅga. For the sake of awakening Brahma, Shiva himself manifested from me. Let us worship the great Lord, desiring the welfare of all worlds. For the sake of understanding, O Krishna, you should now speak yourself.” Krishna then spoke, recalling the beginning of all things: “In the midst of that single ocean, I lay eternal, bearing the conch, discus, and mace. Endowed with a thousand arms and united with my own self, I, the ancient one, was lying there, radiant like millions of suns, enveloped in splendor. Then the god with the dark blue throat—Shiva—praised by the Ṛg, Yajur, and Sāma Vedas, appeared. At that time, Brahma himself, brilliant and smiling, spoke: ‘I am the creator of the worlds, the self-born, the grandsire. I am the creator of the worlds, and again and again, I am their destroyer.’ “For the sake of understanding, the supreme liṅga, of the nature of Shiva, appeared—free from decay and growth, without beginning, middle, or end.” Thus, in this assembly of sages and divinities, the mystery of the supreme Lord was spoken, honoring the eternal unity and greatness of the divine.