With eyes wide in astonishment, all those present offered heartfelt praise to Janārdana, marveling at the wondrous sight before them. Having witnessed the liberation of the elephant-king, one among them spoke, his voice filled with awe and reverence. He declared that the elephant-king had attained the highest perfection, and that all his evil dreams were destroyed. The speaker proclaimed that, by the liberation of the elephant in that very place, any soul could be instantly freed from sin. Furthermore, he assured all who listened that by reciting this account, one could be released from many bonds of sin, just as the elephant had obtained liberation. With great devotion, he bowed to that divine, secret, ancient Person—the most excellent Lord of the worlds. He affirmed that by praising, hearing, and contemplating this Lord, a person’s sins would be dispelled. The tale then turned to another being, one who had delighted in harming others. This creature was base by nature, merciless, and thrived on cruelty. As his life neared its end, a terrible night-wanderer—a rākṣasa—was born from him. This being made his living through cruel deeds, his demonic nature driving him to shun any other way of life. Whatever came within reach of his fierce arms, he devoured without mercy. Thus, a great span of time passed, and age advanced upon him. Yet, in time, a transformation occurred. He became most noble, raising his arms upward in self-control, mastering his senses. He became a master of yoga—pure, skillful, and wholly devoted to Vāsudeva. In his meditations, he envisioned Viṣṇu, the bearer of the bow Śārṅga, standing in the west and armed with a sword at his north. He saw Hari in the form of a boar upon the earth, and Nṛsiṃha in the sky above. Around him shone a garland of rays, dazzling and hard to behold, meant for the destruction of ghosts and night-wandering spirits. This power was the destroyer of demons, spirits, fiends, and ḍākinīs. He prayed that it would utterly destroy beasts, men, kūṣmāṇḍas, ghosts, and all such beings, and that they would become gentle at once, like serpents subdued by Garuḍa. Ghosts, Vināyakas, cruel men, yawning spirits, and birds—all these, he wished, would become gentle to him, struck by the sound of Viṣṇu’s discus. He prayed that those who stole strength and energy, and those who destroyed shadows, would perish, struck by the sound of Viṣṇu’s discus. He wished for all this to come to pass for him, by the praise of Vāsudeva, the god of gods. He affirmed that one who bows to that praiseworthy Lord, the infinite and unchanging Janārdana, does not fall. By this truth, and by the praise of Acyuta’s name, he prayed for the destruction of his threefold misfortune. Even the mighty rākṣasa, though stationed firmly, was unable to withstand the force of these prayers and was suddenly driven away, standing at a distance for four months. When the recitation was finally completed, the noble devotee beheld the night-dweller before him. Seeing the rākṣasa, he was filled with compassion and comforted him. Seeking to help the rākṣasa perceive his own true nature, the devotee protected the earth with his energy. The rākṣasa, distressed by his own past actions, addressed the Brahmin, saying, “Be gracious. The destruction of innocent and small beings has been done by me. For the removal of my sins, please instruct me in righteousness.” Hearing these words, the foremost Brahmin was moved. Suddenly, a desire arose within the rākṣasa to inquire about the path of righteousness. He confessed that, through the Brahmin’s association, supreme dispassion had arisen in his heart. It was by such association, he realized, that supreme dispassion and the longing for true righteousness are attained.