King Supratīka, renowned among men, laughed with delight as he greeted the ascetics before him. “A son has been born to me,” he announced proudly, “and his name is Durjaya.” Driven by a desire to conquer all the kings of the earth, Supratīka had come to seek their blessing. “O noble ascetics,” he said, “remember me always. But tell me, who are you both? You seem to seek my favor.” The ascetics replied, “We are Hetṛ and Prahetṛ, sons of Manu Svāyambhuva. We have journeyed to Mount Meru with the intent of destroying the gods.” They recounted how their own formidable army—teeming with elephants, horses, and chariots—had overwhelmed the hosts of the gods by the hundreds and thousands. Seeing their mighty army vanquished and their lives threatened by the demons, the gods, in desperation, sought refuge. They traveled to the ocean of milk, where Lord Hari, the master of the gods, reposed. With reverence and supplication, the gods approached him, saying, “O God of gods, Hari, our entire army has been defeated by the foremost of demons. Protect us, for we are afraid and bewildered.” They reminded him, “In times past, O Keśava, you protected us in the great battle between gods and demons, when we faced the cruel Kālanemi with a thousand arms. Now, O Lord of the gods, these two demons—Hetṛ and Prahetṛ—with their vast armies, are thorns to us. Slay them and save us, O God of gods, Lord of the universe.” Hearing their plea, Lord Viṣṇu, Nārāyaṇa himself, reassured them: “I will go to slay those two.” Thus spoke the Lord of the universe. With hope renewed, the gods departed toward Mount Meru, their hearts fixed on Janārdana. As soon as they thought of him, the mighty god, bearing discus and mace, entered the demon army—alone, yet of immeasurable power. By his divine might, the Lord multiplied himself: one, ten, a hundred, a thousand, a hundred thousand, ten million forms—all at once. O King, as the Lord thus stood in the midst of the demon army, every demon who relied on their own strength fell, struck down and lifeless. In a single instant, the entire host—horses, elephants, foot soldiers—was destroyed by the wondrous power of the universal form. When the fourfold army lay slain, the god bearing the discus vanished from sight, leaving the demons to witness their forces utterly dried up. Such was the deed of the bow-bearing Lord that Hetṛ and Prahetṛ themselves beheld. Humbled and awed, they sought refuge in him alone, desiring only to worship him. Turning to Supratīka, they said, “You, O king, are the son of our friend. These are our daughters—accept them, O lord of men. Hetṛ’s daughter is Sukeśī, and Prahetṛ’s is Miśrakeśī.” Thus addressed, King Durjaya, son of Supratīka, lawfully accepted both auspicious maidens as his wives. Filled with great joy, the king returned swiftly to his kingdom, his army surrounding him. In time, two sons were born to him: from Sukeśī, a son named Suprabha; from Miśrakeśī, a son named Sudarśana. King Durjaya, blessed with these two excellent sons, later journeyed to the edge of the forest. There, after slaying fearsome wild beasts, he encountered a sinless sage dwelling in the woods. This was the great and fortunate ascetic Gauramukha, protector of seers and savior of the sinful. The hermitage of Gauramukha shone resplendent, with pure waters, gentle breezes, and fragrant trees. It stood like a cloud descended from the sky, a celestial palace upon the earth. Its atmosphere glowed like the fire of sacrifice; the dwellings were spotless, filled with the chanting of Sāman hymns by disciples, adorned with blossoming flowers, and graced by the presence of beautiful women and daughters of seers. Seeing this delightful hermitage, King Durjaya reflected on its beauty and thought, “I shall enter here and see the supremely righteous sages.” With this resolve, he entered the hermitage. The virtuous sage Gauramukha, filled with great joy at the king’s arrival, offered him worship and performed the customary words of welcome. At the conclusion of their conversation, the sage said, “O best of kings, I shall provide food for you and your retinue to the best of my ability. Let your horses be unyoked, O noble one.” Observing his vow, the sage then fell silent. The king, accompanied by his attendants and five divisions of his army, stood there with devotion, wondering, “What food will this ascetic give me here?” Meanwhile, the sage Gauramukha, intent in mind, pondered how he might feed the king and his great company. As he thought thus, Lord Hari Nārāyaṇa, the Lord of the gods, became present in his heart. Remembering Nārāyaṇa, the best of sages entered the Gaṅgā to propitiate him. At this point, the Earth herself inquired, “How did Gauramukha please Viṣṇu, O mountain? I am eager to hear this in detail.” With devotion, she continued: “Salutations always to Viṣṇu; salutations to you, who wear yellow garments. Salutations to you, primordial one; to you, who take the form of water. Salutations to you, who abide in all things and recline upon the waters; to you, who take the form of the earth and whose essence is fire. Salutations to you, who take the form of air and space. You are the Lord of all beings, the master, the desire within the heart. You are the syllable Oṃ, the vaṣaṭ call, and you are present everywhere. You are the origin of all the gods, yet no origin exists for you.” Thus, the story unfolds, filled with devotion and the wondrous deeds of the Lord.