Blinded by exhaustion, his eyes remained deep within the netherworld. Yet, by some mysterious means, he emerged—not at the edge of the well, but far away from it. Guided by the radiant light that clung to the pillar, like a rope, he found his way back. Still, the root of that immense brilliance eluded his sight. Before this vast heap of splendor, no origin could be discovered. That divine one, greater than all worlds, lingered long in a state of bewildering delusion. At last, his resolve grew firm; his pride loosened its hold, and the lotus-eyed one withdrew swiftly. He leapt upward, his face lifted toward the sky, soaring into the unsupported expanse. As he ascended with great speed, his wings scattered the waters below. Rising with tremendous force, he went far beyond the limits of vision. Beside the pillar of light, a magical swan appeared. He first crossed the path of clouds as he soared higher and higher. Passing through the luminous realms of those who dwell above, his form moved with a subtlety greater than even the wind or mind. As he continued his ascent, the leaf-covering he wore, worn and tattered, fell far behind him. Surpassing the seven hosts of winds, he was filled with wonder. He pondered: How can one stand before Hari, whose root remains unseen? What use are all these long years of life, when my vow remains unfulfilled? Who could be an ally to one who seeks to surpass Viṣṇu? Or, perhaps by some trick, could he conceal his failure? For pride is the wealth of the great. In the sky, not far away, he saw something pure and clear. Was it a stalk of lotus in the sea, or in the sky? How could such a thing exist there? Upon closer inspection, he realized it was a ketakī leaf, born from the lotus. Hiraṇyagarbha took up the spotless ketakī leaf. For a hundred thousand years, he soared thus through the sky. The lotus-born, his hopes dashed, pondered deeply. With his vow still unfulfilled, he had even taken refuge in humility. Amidst this trial, he questioned his own limited strength, feeling his limbs weaken, as if he too might collapse downward. What more could be said, even with many words and sighing breaths? Let the knot of pride and arrogance be broken from his mind. He reflected: For this effort, which has surpassed the measure of the world’s cavity, I am neither Nārāyaṇa nor anyone else. I do not have the power to rise from here and turn back. Then he addressed the leaf, asking, “Who are you, and from where have you come?” The ketakī leaf replied, “By Śiva’s command, I was made a ketaka leaf, endowed with consciousness. Desiring to dwell on earth, I have now arrived here.” Hearing these words, the lotus-born regained his composure. He saw that countless universes are attached all around to this one. Having passed through forty thousand yugas, he then fell down. As he spoke, the lotus-born bowed reverently to him.