Within that resplendent palace, the Blessed Lord—Janardana, the God of gods—reclined upon the vast, coiled body of the serpent king, Shesha. His divine form was adorned with every ornament, shining with celestial beauty. One knee was bent gracefully, and both feet of the Lord, the wielder of the discus, rested lightly upon the majestic hoods of the serpent king. One of his feet was tenderly placed upon the lap of Lakshmi, who soothed the coiling serpent beneath him, while his arm, decorated with gleaming armlets, lay upon Shesha’s coils. One arm of the Lord was set behind his head in ease, the other extended outward. His bent knee sparkled with a jeweled bracelet, and another arm, slightly curved, rested near his navel. Of his third and fourth arms, one held a garland of fragrant parijata flowers, the blossoms following the graceful line of his nose. Lakshmi, with hands as delicate as lotus petals, gently massaged his foot. The Lord was further adorned with a splendid garland, a radiant crown, a beautiful necklace, and shining armlets. Bracelets and rings encircled his limbs, and his radiant head, filled with divine luster, rested on the jeweled hood of the serpent king. This sacred place, established by the sage Atri and mysterious in its true nature, was perpetually honored by accomplished sages and adorned with garlands representing their noble lineages. The Lord’s body was anointed with divine fragrances, perfumed by celestial incense, and, by the hands of perfected beings, always offered the choicest fruits. The god, crowned with a lotus-shaped diadem, shone with splendor from every side. The king, beholding this wondrous sight, gazed at him directly and bowed low in reverence. Approaching as prescribed by tradition, with knees and head touching the ground, the king praised Madhusudana with a thousand sacred names. Rising again and again, he circumambulated the beautiful sanctuary and then remained in the hermitage nearby. When he left the cave, he sought refuge in another charming grotto and there performed rigorous austerities, offering worship to Madhusudana. Each day, he gathered various flowers, fruits, roots, and milk for his offerings, bathing three times daily, and tending the sacred fire with devotion. Drawing water from divine ponds, he practiced constant breath control and, in his dedication, renounced all food. He slept in an unadorned cave, forsaking even rituals related to food, subsisting solely on water. Yet, his body did not grow weary—a wonder in itself. Thus, absorbed in austerities and ceaseless worship of the Supreme God, the king dwelled in that hermitage for some time, free from sorrow, as if he were living in heaven itself. In that delightful hermitage, having relinquished food and all possessions, the king beheld the Gandharvas and Apsaras playing and sporting together. He gathered many flowers and wove them into garlands, offering the finest first to the Lord, and then presenting them to the Gandharvas. Though he observed the many activities of those absorbed in gathering flowers and playing freely, his mind was fixed elsewhere; he did not truly see them. Amidst these scenes, one maiden, lost in her search for flowers, became entangled in a lattice of vines, abandoned by her companions and left behind by her beloved. Another, fragrant as a lotus and troubled by bees drawn by her sighs, was rescued by her beloved. One woman, her eyes covered by honey-laden bees, found her gaze obscured by her lover’s breath. A radiant woman, after gathering flowers, presented them to her beloved; adorned with flowers he had woven, she shone with a floral crown. Another, having woven her own garland, was crowned by her beloved and felt fulfilled, her passion heightened. In a secluded grove, a certain creeper with exceptional blossoms was led away in secret by her eager lover. Among the entwined creepers, one woman, searching for flowers with her beloved, considered herself superior to all in every virtue. Some among them saw the king, surrounded by lotuses, playing separately with the Gandharvas and the graceful, divine women. One woman, her smile radiant, playfully struck her beloved with water; when he struck her in return, she was filled with joy. Another, beautiful and weary, struck her beloved as well; her splendid form, with heaving breasts, danced with the rhythm of her breath. Her hair, disheveled from being pulled during their water play, framed her face in tangled locks, making her shine like a lotus surrounded by bees. Hidden for a long time among the lotuses and covered with flowers that resembled her own eyes, one woman was finally found by her lover after much searching. Having bathed and feeling the refreshing coolness, another woman spoke eagerly, embracing her beloved and fulfilling her long-held desire. Wearing a fine, wet garment clinging to her limbs, and smiling brightly, one woman aroused passion in all who saw her. With a garland around her neck, drawn by her lover in the water, she laughed for a long time as her necklace broke and fell. Another, bent over and scratched on the knee by a friend, was startled and sought refuge with her lover, remaining there for a long while. One woman, her back wet from water poured over her hair, sat upon a stone slab and was seen by her husband, whose eyes were full of longing. Garlands torn, her breasts smeared with saffron transferred from her lover, the water of that lake shimmered as if after amorous play. And there, Janardana himself was seen—honored by hosts of Gandharvas and celestial women—having bathed splendidly, resplendent amidst the divine assembly.