He appeared before the king, adorned with shining earrings that gleamed like fully blossomed flowers. Upon his chest shone the mark of Śrīvatsa and the radiant Kaustubha gem, and he was further decorated with a garland of fragrant forest flowers. Overcome by awe, the king bowed low, prostrating himself on the ground, and, with deep devotion, he called out again and again, “Kṛṣṇa, Kṛṣṇa, Śrī Kṛṣṇa.” Then the blessed creator of beings, filled with compassion, spoke words of reassurance: “Your forefathers will come to my world. Offer them your praise, and whatever you desire, they will at once accomplish for you. Therefore, worship the Lord with hymns, for he is worthy of praise and grants true happiness. O king, when you honor him, he will immediately bestow prosperity upon you.” As these words were spoken, the foremost sage vanished from sight, and the king rose to his feet, filled with amazement and wonder, pondering, “What should I do now?” Yet, the truth of the sage’s words resounded within him: “This is certainly true; you should not entertain any doubt.” Absorbed in devotion, the king began to praise the Lord of all the gods. He worshipped the Lord, who is the very essence of Om, beyond the reach of proof or reasoning. Bowing low, he addressed the universal form, Virupaksha, the fierce-seeded one. He honored the Lord proclaimed by the yogis, the increaser of strength, and offered salutations to the blue-throated one, the lord of beasts. He continued his worship: “Salutations to the One who is beyond creation and dissolution, homage to the lord of beings, to the one who holds a skull, the noose, and the club. Homage to the five-faced god, the lord of the fields, the one of many forms and appearances, the qualityless, the supreme self. Salutations to Hiranyagarbha, the golden one, whose very form is meditation and who is the witness of all meditation. To the one who makes this entire universe—moving and unmoving—resplendent; who, like rain from a cloud, is born from the Supreme Principle and the Person; whom the knowers of truth call the illuminator, the sun of human eyes; the conqueror of death, the great god, the supreme among the supreme, the all-pervading. “O Kaparddin, I bow to you; salutations to the newly born, to Manyu, to Isha, to the lord of swift ones, to the thread of sacrifice. To you, whose seed is fire, salutations to the one of great soul—the steadfast, the moving, the great and the small, the unmanifest and manifest, the living and the non-living. To the independent, the one, the quality among qualities, I bow again and again.” Moved by the king’s intense and unwavering austerity, the Lord appeared before him. He was of noble form, with three eyes, and wore a serpent as his sacred thread. Clad in an elephant hide, his lotus feet were worshipped by the gods themselves. The king quickly rose and stood before Shiva with hands joined in reverence. Recognizing the king’s sincere devotion, Śaṅkara, the moon-crested Lord, spoke gently: “I am truly pleased with you—by your hymn and your austerity as well.” With palms joined, the king addressed the Lord of lords of the worlds: “Then, grant me Gaṅgā for the liberation of my ancestors.