The sages, in their deep meditation, fix their minds upon that supreme sky, contemplating Vāsudeva, who is the highest abode. In their vision, they behold the supreme Brahman—known as Viṣṇu—who is ever beyond the reach of darkness. All who dwell there are clad in radiant yellow garments, their chests marked with the auspicious sign of Śrīvatsa. Their brilliance arises from their own yoga, and they ride upon the mighty Garuḍa. Within this realm reside those beings who move within Viṣṇu himself. There, too, is a wondrous city named Nārāyaṇa, adorned by Vyāsa and other illustrious souls. This city is furnished with splendid mansions and fortified ramparts, its skyline crowded with lofty towers. Inside, pure bedding and a wealth of ornaments add to its beauty. Surrounding the city on every side are serene lakes, their waters alive with the music of vīṇās and flutes. The city is encircled by streets, their stairways inlaid with precious jewels. It has four great gates and is incomparable, inaccessible to those who bear hatred for the gods. The city is filled with those skilled in rare forms of song, such that even the gods marvel at their artistry. Among its inhabitants are many whose faces shine like the moon, whose steps are adorned with the melodious sound of anklets. They are endowed with all manner of wealth, slender-waisted and adorned with divine ornaments. These beings are masters of conversation and speech, their bodies wondrous in hue, delighting in diverse pleasures. The city possesses countless pure qualities, unattainable even by the gods themselves. At its heart stands a gateway of surpassing brilliance, flanked by high ramparts. In the very center, Hari—the source of all worlds—reclines upon the great serpent Śeṣa. He drinks the nectar of his own bliss, remaining ever supreme and untouched by darkness. At his feet sits the daughter of the Ocean of Milk, gently holding his feet always, her mind fixed upon him, ever drinking the nectar that is Nārāyaṇa. This place is known as Vaikuṇṭha, revered even by the gods. Only this much can truly be spoken, for this is the city of Nārāyaṇa. There, resplendent, Nārāyaṇa lies, his māyā veiling the world in wonder. At the end of every age, all beings return to him—he alone is the supreme goal. Beyond, relying upon the Ocean of Milk, there is an island encircled by a lotus. This island is vast, perfectly round, and upon it rises a great mountain, divided in two by its natural formation. This region is known as Mahāvīta, and there too is the land called Dhātakī. On this sacred island stands a mighty nyagrodha tree, revered by the immortals. Here, O best of sages, is the shared abode of Śiva and Nārāyaṇa. The Lord, dark and tawny, is honored by Gandharvas, Kinnaras, and Yakṣas. Those who dwell here are free from disease and sorrow, untouched by attachment or aversion. There are no divisions of caste or stage of life, no rivers, and no mountains to divide the land. All around stretches an ocean of sweet water. Beyond this lies the golden land, twice as wide, resembling a vast slab of stone. There is that which is both luminous and non-luminous, known as Lokāloka. This is the extent of the great mountain Lokāloka, and all around it, darkness like a fierce bowl surrounds the world on every side.