After speaking thus, she journeyed to the sacred heights of Mount Vindhya. As she went, her mind dwelled on those past deeds and the words once spoken—words that lingered with deep significance. It was because of me, O daughter of the Himalaya, most beautiful among all beings in the worlds, that these events had unfolded. He, too, uttered those very words, and then vanished from your sight. In the wake of his departure, the world was thrown into confusion and overwhelming fear. Abandoning their homes, all creatures were seized by despair. Light itself seemed to vanish; the world became a desolate wilderness. For it is known that the three eyes of Rudra are none other than the sun, the moon, and fire—sources of all illumination. Then arose a dreadful, impenetrable darkness, casting all into uncertainty. Amidst this gloom, those assembled began to ponder how they might fulfill their purpose. For without Rudra, there was no light from sun, moon, or fire to guide the world. In their anguish, they called out: “O god! O sage! O perfected one! O seer! O night-wanderer! Where have you gone, beloved? Whom have you found, O Lord? Do you carry with you any provisions, or anything at all in any direction? Do you reside anywhere? How do you find water, or peace of mind?” In this way, they spoke to one another with compassion, seeking comfort in shared longing. Meanwhile, those living beings who dwelled deep within the earth’s cavities had never known the sun, the moon, or the great planets. They wondered, “By what light do we discern the level from the uneven? Who is it, moving among us equally, who fulfills the countless desires of our hearts? Whether lying on a level bed, floating in water, riding in a boat, or suffering illness, a good attendant is a blessing. A friend in a foreign land, shade in the heat, fire without smoke in the cold—these are all treasures. And always, for all, there is one who grants the hundredfold desires of the mind.” Speaking thus, O Vyasa, they suddenly heard sweet words. Yet, they did not know where he was, nor did they recognize who was speaking—it was Keshava, the Lord himself. There is a gift, always fitting, that is remembered as equal to a wish-fulfilling gem, and this should be given by all. Listen well to this truth: the one who created the excellent lamp, by which the darkness was destroyed—by that unwavering, pure, pleasing, and radiant lamp, Gokarna attained peace. Even the mighty serpents, led by Shesha, did not rise up, not even in their multitudes. Whether on mountains, in oceans, in forests, or in groves, they enjoyed the five divine roots mixed with milk, food made from rice nourished by the moon, and betel prepared in seven ways. Resting on splendid beds and delighting in the beauty of the forests, they embraced one another in happiness. Freed from the fear of the sun’s burning heat and the moon’s chilling rays—for the sun brings burning and the moon brings coolness—they lived content. They fashioned golden lamps and offered them again to the twice-born, the Brahmins. There, in that realm, they lived joyfully, enjoying pleasures eight times greater than those found even in heaven. This secret, O listener, I have revealed to you out of compassion.