Salutations resounded again and again for the one who destroys the suffering of those who remember him. Suddenly, he who bears the conch, discus, and mace appeared before them, radiant and unmistakable. Adorned with every ornament, his chest bore the auspicious mark of Śrīvatsa, shining brightly. Around him gathered the best of sages, and he was surrounded by the foremost attendants, all offering praise. With joy and deep reverence, those present performed eightfold prostrations, bowing to him in heartfelt adoration. Pleased by their devotion, the Lord addressed the gods, who stood with heads bowed, Indra at their forefront. He assured them, “That sage, foremost among the virtuous, does not trouble you, O gods. In every way, the best of gods do not trouble another—not even in dreams. How can a wise person, without first ensuring his own protection, bear enmity toward another? How can one who is noble bring harm or play with another? Only those always caught in desire and such are called deluded minds. But noble ones are known as unattached by the virtuous. Return peacefully to your own abodes; he will not trouble you.” The Lord, shining like a jasmine flower, granted them a boon, and satisfied, the hosts of gods returned to heaven as they had come. The formless, supreme Brahman, self-luminous and stainless, remained. Meanwhile, Mṛkaṇḍu, upon seeing the Lord bearing divine weapons, was filled with astonishment. He beheld the Creator, serene and gracious, his face radiant with universal splendor. Overwhelmed, Mṛkaṇḍu bowed flat to the ground before the eternal Lord of gods, then placed his hands upon his head and began to offer praise. He offered homage to the One beyond both ends, the supreme imitator, the highest among the supreme, the ultimate deliverer. “Though possessing many forms, you are untouched; I worship that supreme Lord, worthy of praise. I worship the incomparable, the source of devotion, compassionate to his devotees, the Lord of all, the original object of praise. Freed from delusion, I bow to that supremely pure one, the remover of worldly existence. You are served by the world, the abode of the universe, the supreme Lord, the ocean of compassion.” The Lord, bearer of conch, discus, and mace, was supremely satisfied by these heartfelt praises. He spoke with utmost affection: “Choose a boon, O steadfast one. Choose whatever boon your mind desires.” He continued, “Because the vision of you is rare even for the unworthy, it is remembered. Even those who are righteous, initiated, free from passion and envy—” Mṛkaṇḍu replied, “By this alone I am fulfilled, O Janārdana, bearer of the world. To that supreme state, O Acyuta, which is attained by seeing you—my vision will never be fruitless at any time. That indeed I shall uphold; my people do not speak falsehood.” The Lord granted him: endowed with all virtues, long-lived, and possessing his true form. “O best of sages, when I am pleased, what is impossible in the three worlds?” he declared. With his boon received, Mṛkaṇḍu disappeared, withdrawing from his austerities. Tell me, what did Hari, the descendant of Bhṛgu, do then? He beheld the Vaiṣṇava illusion at the flood of the long-lived one, endowed with devotion to Viṣṇu, directed toward the sage Mārkaṇḍeya.