Having performed the sacred offerings and worshipped Viṣṇu on the twelfth day, one should then feed brāhmaṇas as best as possible, giving appropriate gifts and showing devotion. In ancient times, those who observed this Dharaṇī vow—such as Prajāpati—attained not only lordship over all creatures but also liberation and union with the eternal Brahman. In the same way, King Yuvanāśva, by performing this rite, was blessed with his son Māndhātṛ and attained the Supreme Brahman. Likewise, King Kṛtavīrya of the Haihayas, ruler among men, gained his illustrious son Kārttavīrya and the eternal Supreme as a result of this observance. Śakuntalā too, through her austerities, obtained her son—the universal emperor Śākuntala, son of Duṣyanta. Indeed, many ancient kings and universal emperors praised in the Vedas achieved supreme sovereignty by means of this very rite. This observance is called the supreme Earth Vow because, once, when the earth had sunk into the underworld, it was this vow that was performed. When the rite was completed, Hari, taking the form of a mighty boar, lifted the goddess Earth from the depths and set her gently upon the waters, steady as a boat, pleased with the devotion shown. Thus, the Earth Vow has been described; whoever listens to this account with devotion, or the best among men who performs it, is freed from all sin and attains union with Viṣṇu. Śrī Varāha continued: Upon hearing Durvāsas’ words about the supreme Earth Vow, the sage Satyatapas immediately journeyed to the excellent slopes of the Himalaya. There, beside the river Puṣpabhadrā, amidst stones and wondrous rocks and beneath the auspicious banyan tree, his hermitage shone forth, a place where a great event would unfold. The Earth herself then spoke: “For thousands of great ages I have performed this ancient vow and austerity, O Lord, but I had forgotten it. Now, by your grace, my memory of the past has returned; I remember my former lives and am free from sorrow, O Supreme Lord. If curiosity still remains in your heart, O highest god, then tell me, O mountain, what Agastya did upon returning to the abode of Bhadrāśva, and what that king did as well.” Śrī Varāha replied: When the sage Agastya returned, King Bhadrāśva, whose banner is white, saw him seated on a noble seat. After performing special worship, the king humbly asked Agastya about the dharma of liberation: “O blessed one, by what actions can the cycle of worldly existence be cut off? What should one do so as not to grieve, whether embodied or disembodied?” Agastya answered: “Listen, O king, to a divine story, set both far and near, concerning the distinction between what is seen and unseen. Attend closely. There was a time when neither day nor night existed, no directions, nor heaven, nor gods, nor sun. In that primordial era, a king named Paśupāla tended many herds. One day, desiring to see the eastern ocean, he journeyed there. On the shore of the boundless ocean, he found a forest inhabited by serpents. Within that forest stood eight wish-fulfilling trees, a flowing river, birds of many kinds, and five principal men who carried a radiant woman. This woman held upon her breast a vast form, shining like a thousand suns. Beneath her were three modifications and three colors. The king wandered among them. Suddenly, all those present became silent, as if lifeless, and as the king entered the forest, so too did the others, uniting out of fear. Surrounded by serpents and bandits, the king pondered about the strange entanglements before him. As he reflected, a supreme man appeared, bearing three colors—white, red, and black. This being signaled to me and asked, ‘Where will you go?’ As he spoke, a great name arose. The king was surrounded by this being, who said, ‘Awaken!’ At that, the woman restrained the king. To the king, bewildered by illusion, another man said, ‘Do not fear.’ Then a heroic man, the Lord of all lords, surrounded the king and stood firm. Five more men approached and encircled the king, restraining him. With the king thus restrained, all the bandits united, and, taking up weapons, hid from each other out of fear. While they hid, the king’s palace shone with supreme beauty, though a multitude of wicked ones—crores and more—were present. Within the house, there were earth, water, fire, and a pleasantly cool wind. The spaces were pure, and there existed five qualities, each with a single attribute. One alone among them remained for a long time, having attached herself to the king; thus did that cowherd act with ease, O king. Noticing the king’s swiftness and form in battle, the three-colored man spoke: ‘I am your son, O great king. Tell me, what shall I do for you? We, desiring kinship, have made you our resolve. Even if we are all defeated, still we remain merged in these bodies, O king. Among your sons, one remains; when all have departed, there is existence.’ Thus addressed, the king replied: ‘You become my son, O best of beings, and also of the others. I am never tainted by the pleasures or natures of men like you.’ Having spoken thus, the king made him his own son; released by them, he rested among them. Agastya continued: That three-colored one, now released by the king and independent, created a son named Aham, who too bore three colors. He had a daughter who embodied understanding, and she gave birth to a son named Manohva, a bestower of knowledge.