Pressed from above by her two full breasts, I felt the weight of my actions upon me. Suddenly, a monkey’s knot fell upon the necklace at my throat, a sign of further entanglement. Once again, with my mind clouded by wickedness, I descended into the dreadful realms of hell. In another life, he placed me on a cart alongside his beloved woman. The outcaste walked ahead, and I, compelled by fate, followed behind him. When he looked back and saw me, he turned around and leapt in the same manner. Bound firmly to the yoke, my life came to its end. Thus, I was born in your house, bearing the memory of my previous birth. From that former existence, both the knowledge of the scriptures and the bonds of karma have followed me here. Terrible sins—committed in form, mind, deed, and speech—cling to me, and from such former practices, bondage and even death arise. Therefore, you should establish this son, Divākīrti, in the proper duties of household life. Yes, you must guide Divākīrti along the path of a householder’s righteous conduct. He then journeyed to the sacred abode of Murāri, the prime and venerable Badarī hermitage. There, O best of the twice-born, recalling my earlier practices, I now speak to you: Knowledge is cultivated beforehand; from it arise the teachings of dharma and artha—righteousness and prosperity. He sat in deep meditation, contemplating Nārāyaṇa, the slayer of Madhu and Kaiṭabha, who bears the discus, mace, and sword in his hands. He approached the sacrificial enclosure and spoke in a loud, clear voice. “The horse sacrifice,” he proclaimed, “is the foremost of all rituals, the chief among sacrifices, O lord of the Daityas.” The vessel for the sacrificial fee was brought forth, for the god himself was present. Entering the sacrificial enclosure with the sage Bharadvāja, he addressed him, saying, “O venerable one, tell me—what shall I give you, O bestower of honor?” Smiling for a long time and gazing at Bharadvāja, he awaited the reply. “He does not sustain the fire, Jātavedas, on foreign ground,” Bharadvāja observed. “Grant me, O king, three steps of land, measured by my own body.” Looking at his son Bāṇa, the king spoke: “Who, out of folly, asks for only three steps, even though he is wise? He does not ask for abundant wealth or the like, for with Viṣṇu here, there is little effort. Even as I am the giver, today he asks only for three steps. Ask of Viṣṇu for elephants, horses, land, maidservants, gold—whatever you desire. How can there not be shame for both giver and petitioner in asking for just three steps? Of all these, which place should I give? Ask for it, O Vāmana.” But the supplicant replied, “With just this much, I am a supplicant; grant me, O king, three steps of land.” Bali, taking up the ritual water, granted Viṣṇu the three strides he requested. For the purpose of traversing the three worlds, Viṣṇu then assumed many forms, embodying the entire universe. Truth and austerity were established at his knees; the mighty mountains Meru and Mandara formed his thighs. Desire resided in his phallus, and Prajapati in his testicles. In the three folds of his body flowed the rivers, and sacrifices resided in his belly. The Vasus and the gods were upon his back, while his shoulders were presided over by the Rudras. Brahma was established in his heart, and the thunderbolt dwelled in the bones of his heart. Thus, the cosmic form of Viṣṇu was revealed, encompassing all the worlds and beings within himself.