Pierced by realization and freed from all pain and thought, he stood suspended in the sky, his very body adorned with the radiance of stars. Now, let me tell in detail the characteristics and true forms of these wondrous beings, describing their movements and the places where they reside. Their movements are found in grains, in precious gems, and similar things. One among them always wanders amidst blooming flowers and along the banks of tranquil lakes. His dwelling is the earth itself, with the fertile fields as his sanctuary. There is a pair, skilled in the art of the vīṇā, who move among singers, dancers, and artists—a pair known by name, their sign established as having a dual nature. They are found in fields, in reservoirs, and on secluded riverbanks as well. Another dwells in hunters’ villages, in the shadowy depths of mountain caves and caverns. He moves through places of women’s pleasure and makes his home in the dense thickets of reeds. O Nārada, he is also present in the bustling city roads and in the inns where travelers rest. His presence is found even among poisons, cow dung, insects, and stones. There is a hero, skilled with horses and weapons, steadfast among elephants, chariots, and such. The makara, that aquatic being, moves in rivers and dwells in the vast expanse of the great ocean. The pot frequents gambling houses and lingers in the homes of wine-sellers. Yet another dwells in holy places, in the homes of gods and Brāhmaṇas. This ancient secret, O sage, must not be revealed to anyone. I have declared to you this ancient, supreme, and pure tale—a story that bestows merit, destroys sin, and brings auspiciousness. Now, Dakṣāyaṇī was his wife, and she bore him sons. Among them, Hari and Kṛṣṇa were always devoted to the practice of yoga. These gentle souls performed great austerities, possessing the strength and nature of ancient bulls. On the broad bank of the sacred Ganga, the two brothers made their home, ever devoted to the Supreme Brahman. But as they were tormented by their intense austerities, Indra, the king of the gods, became disturbed. To disrupt their penance, he sent the foremost of the Apsarases, beginning with Rambha, to that great hermitage. Indra himself, accompanied by his companion Vasanta, the spirit of spring, journeyed to the hermitage. When they arrived at the Badari hermitage, they sported as they pleased. The trees, which were always stripped of leaves, now shone with beauty as their branches touched the earth. O sage, the lion of spring had come, adorned with the flaming blossoms of the palāśa tree. Vasanta laughed aloud, his form adorned with jasmine buds. Just as the sons of kings are resplendent with golden ornaments, and as honored servants resemble princes, so too did spring and his retinue appear. Clad in the color of battle’s blood, as if engaged in the war of the king of spring, they seemed like the virtuous, whose skin erupts in goosebumps at the arrival of a beloved friend. With their fingers, they seemed to declare, “What mountain is equal to us?” Their hair was darkened by the tresses of blue ashoka flowers, their faces blossoming like lotuses. Their teeth shone like blooming jasmine, and they were adorned with the beauty of clustered flowers. Divine in form, their voices echoed like the calls of male cuckoos, and they were clad in garments made of ankola blossoms. Sashes of eastern bamboo adorned them, and their gait was as graceful as that of an intoxicated swan. O Brahman, in this way, the full fortune and glory of spring arrived at the Badari hermitage.