Thus, in the warmth of summer, it was instructed that all the prescribed rites should be performed diligently, just as previously described. Of all the months, the summer month stands out as the most eminent, having attained a special prominence above the rest. Therefore, O beautiful one, it was enjoined that, during this season, one should also offer worship to me. Consider, the text says, all the flowering halls upon the earth, and all those that are fragrant—let them be offered in worship. And just as with summer, so too in the rainy season should my rites be performed, O Earth. Furthermore, I shall reveal to you another rite, one that grants liberation from the cycle of worldly existence. With these flowers, one should worship with great reverence, reciting the mantra: “Salutations to Nārāyaṇa.” Those who are devoted to meditation perceive you, O Lord, dark as a rain-laden cloud, revered in your greatness. In the month of Āṣāḍha, on the auspicious twelfth day, performing these rites brings all tranquility. A mortal who follows this path does not perish in worldly existence, in any age. By such worship, those devoted to action cross over the ocean of worldly life. Having thus worshipped Nārāyaṇa, the Lord who has assumed the form of Varāha, this sacred knowledge should not be given to an unworthy disciple or to those who distort the meaning of scripture. For them, the recitation of these rites leads quickly to the loss of both wealth and virtue. This, O blessed one, is what I have told you, in response to your earlier question. Thus concludes the one hundred twenty-fourth chapter, named “The Rite of the Seasons,” in the sacred scripture of the Varāha Purāṇa. Then, having heard all the rites prescribed for the six seasons, the Earth herself, steadfast in her vow, spoke of the wheel of illusion. “Those auspicious and pure practices which you have described—having heard these deeds spoken by you, O Mādhava—this, to me, is the highest secret and stirs my greatest curiosity. You always refer to this as my illusion, O Lord. I wish to know the meaning of this illusion, the supreme and most secret truth.” Smiling gently, he addressed Vasundharā: “Why do you trouble yourself needlessly for something you will soon see? O wide-eyed one, what more shall I say to you, Vasundharā, about my illusion? “A land becomes arid—this is my illusion, dear one; just as the moon waxes and wanes, fortnight by fortnight. At new moon, it disappears from sight—this too is my illusion. When coolness arises unexpectedly in the heat of summer, that is my illusion as well. When the sun rises in the east at dawn, O beautiful one, this is my illusion. “When a creature is born in the womb, this, too, is my illusion; the soul, upon entering the womb, experiences both pleasure and pain. And when it is born, it forgets everything—this is my supreme illusion. Through actions, beings are led elsewhere—this, too, is my supreme illusion. “The fingers, feet, arms, head, and waist; the ears, eyes, skull, forehead, and tongue—all these are shaped by illusion. What a person eats is digested by the fire within, as is what is drunk. Sound, touch, form, taste, and the fifth—smell—all these experiences arise. “In every season, their own forms exist, both among the immobile and the mobile beings. There are celestial waters, and likewise terrestrial waters, in which all things are established. During the rains, all the ponds and lakes are filled with abundant water. And from the snowy peaks of the Himalayas, the sacred river Mandākinī flows forth.” Thus, the Lord gently revealed the mystery of his illusion to the steadfast Earth, unfolding the secrets of existence and the cycles of nature.