In a sacred region where the river Puṣpabhadrā winds its way, amidst stones and wondrous rocks, and beneath the shade of an auspicious banyan tree, the hermitage of the sage shone with great splendor. It was here that a momentous event, shaped by his will, was destined to unfold. The Earth herself spoke, saying, “For thousands of great ages, I have practiced this ancient vow and austerity, yet, O Lord, I had forgotten it.” By the grace of the Supreme Lord, her memory awakened; she recalled her former lives and found herself free from sorrow. Turning to the highest god, she said, “If curiosity still stirs within you, O mountain, then tell me: what did the sage Agastya do when he returned to the abode of Bhadrāśva, and what did that noble king undertake?” Śrī Varāha replied, “When the sage returned, Bhadrāśva—whose banner is white—saw him seated upon a noble seat. After performing special worship, Bhadrāśva respectfully asked Agastya a question concerning the dharma of liberation.” The king asked, “O blessed one, by what action is the cycle of worldly existence cut off? What should one do so as not to grieve, whether embodied or disembodied?” Agastya responded, “Listen, O king, to a divine story, set both far and near, emerging from the distinction between the seen and unseen. Attend with a focused mind, O ruler.” He began, “There was a time when neither day nor night existed, nor directions or their intermediates, nor heaven or gods, nor the sun. In that era, a king named Paśupāla tended many herds. Once, while tending his cattle, he desired to see the eastern ocean and quickly journeyed there. On the shore of the boundless ocean, he found a forest inhabited by serpents. “There, eight wish-fulfilling trees stood and a river flowed. Birds moved about overhead, and there were five principal men carrying a single woman who shone with brilliance. This woman held upon her breast a vast form, radiant as a thousand suns; beneath her were three modifications and three colors. The king wandered amidst these sights. “Suddenly, all became silent, as if lifeless. The king entered the forest, and as he did, all those beings entered as well, uniting in a moment out of fear. Surrounded by unruly serpents and bandits, the king wondered, ‘How will these events unfold? How did these beings become entangled?’ “As he pondered, a supreme man appeared, bearing three colors—white, red, and black. He made a sign to me and asked, ‘Where will you go?’ As he spoke, a great name arose. The king was surrounded by him, who said, ‘Awaken!’ At that moment, the woman restrained the king. “To the king, enveloped by illusion, another man said, ‘Do not fear.’ Then a heroic man, the Lord of all lords, surrounded the king and stood firm. Five other men approached and surrounded the king, restraining him further. “With the king restrained, all the bandits united, taking up weapons to attack, yet hiding from each other out of fear. As these men hid, the king’s palace shone with supreme beauty, and there were countless other wicked ones present. “In the house, there were earth, water, fire, and a pleasantly cool wind; the spaces were pure, and five qualities, each with a single attribute, existed. Among them, one alone remained for a long time, surrounding and attaching herself to the king. Thus, the cowherd managed all this with ease. “Seeing the king’s swiftness and form in battle, the three-colored man spoke to him: ‘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 have all been defeated, still we remain merged in these bodies, O king. Among your sons, one remains; when all have departed, there is existence.’ “The king replied, ‘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 independent, created a son named Aham, also three-colored. He had a daughter, embodying understanding, who gave birth to a son named Manohva, bestower of knowledge. Manohva had five sons of all forms—five enjoyers—and their sons were called Akṣa. “These were once bandits, subdued by the king; all of them, as if without form, made a beautiful abode. That city had nine gates, a single pillar, and four crossroads; it was established amidst a thousand rivers, with waterworks throughout. “The nine became united and entered that city. Suddenly, a person appeared, embodied as both king and shepherd. Residing there, the great king and shepherd recalled the Vedas, indicating the words of the reciters. The king performed all the vows, disciplines, and sacrifices spoken of as eternal and pertaining to the true nature of the self. “Once, the king became weary from promoting ritual actions, and being omniscient, entered yogic sleep and produced a son. This son had four faces, four arms, four Vedas, and four crossroads. From him, all creatures beginning with cattle remained under his authority. “In that ocean, in that forest, and among grasses, the king himself was present; likewise, among elephants and others, he became equal, having permitted ritual actions.” Bhadrāśva then asked, “O Brahman, you have narrated the story in response to my question. Whose glory was that, and by whom and how was it accomplished?” Thus, the tale unfolded, revealing the profound mysteries of existence, the cycle of worldly life, and the subtle interplay of beings and their origins, as told by Agastya to Bhadrāśva in the sacred hermitage by the river Puṣpabhadrā.