In the sacred environs of the hermitage, the air was thick with the rising smoke from sacrificial fires. All around, householders and twice-born sages tended these flames with devotion, their presence as majestic and fierce as lions tearing apart lawless elephants. Among them, the greatest shone with sharp fangs and splendid manes, embodying the power of righteousness. As the king approached, he took in the many features of this excellent hermitage, marveling at its serenity and spiritual grandeur. Entering within, he beheld the great ascetic, who radiated intense energy and virtue. Seated upon a silken seat, he glowed like the sun, the foremost among those who know Brahman. Upon seeing the victorious king—who stood among the deer of the forest—the king’s mind, previously intent on other matters, was stilled by the sage’s presence. In that moment, his thoughts shifted from worldly concerns to righteousness, inspired by the ascetic’s aura. The sage, recognizing the sinless protector of his people, welcomed the king with proper rites, offering him a seat and hospitality. Once seated, the king bowed respectfully to the eminent sage and posed a most difficult question about the earth and existence. “O venerable one,” the king asked, “renowned for your vows, please tell me what should be done by those who, afflicted by the suffering of worldly existence, wish to cross over it. I have come to you in reverence, seeking guidance.” The great ascetic replied, “For those sinking in the ocean of worldly existence, O king, a steadfast and reliable boat must be fashioned. Worship, charity, offerings, sacrifices, and meditation are its planks; it must be fastened with the pegs of liberation and tied with the cords of breath and life-force. Above all, make the Lord of the three worlds your boat.” He continued, “O lord of kings, whoever worships with devotion and bows to Nārāyaṇa—the destroyer of hell and lord of the gods—becomes free from sorrow and attains that supreme, imperishable abode of Viṣṇu, where suffering does not exist.” The king, eager to know more, asked, “O venerable one, knower of all dharma, how is the eternal Viṣṇu to be worshipped by those who desire liberation? Please tell me truly.” The sage responded, “Listen, O wise king, to how Viṣṇu is pleased—so too Hari, the lord of all yogis, for both men and women. All the gods, along with the ancestors, Brahmā, and those within the cosmic egg, are born from Viṣṇu. This is declared by the Vedas.” He elaborated, “Agni, the Aśvins, Gaurī, the elephant-faced Ganapati, serpents, Kārttikeya, the sun, the Mothers, and Durgā—all these arise from Viṣṇu. The directions, the lord of wealth, Viṣṇu himself, Yama, Rudra, the moon, and the ancestors—all have arisen chiefly from the Lord of the universe.” “All these beings have originated from the body of Hiraṇyagarbha. Yet, each, bearing pride, went their separate ways in all directions. Among them, a great sound arose in the assembly of the gods, like the roaring of the ocean: ‘I alone am worthy, I alone am to be worshipped.’” As the gods disputed, Agni arose and declared, “Sacrifice to me, meditate on me.” He claimed, “Surely this body of the progenitor would perish without me, for I am the great I.” Having spoken, Agni left the body and departed, but the body did not decay. Then the two Aśvins, embodying the vital breaths, spoke, “We are the foremost, the best to be worshipped.” They too left the body, yet it remained, sustained by the field-dweller. Next, Gauri claimed, “Primacy resides in me,” and departed. Even without her, the field remained governed by the speech-deities. Ganapati, called Akasha, then spoke, “Nothing of the body remains distant, deprived of me,” and he too left after some time. Yet, the body did not disintegrate. Seeing the field deprived of cavities but still intact, all the bodily elements declared, “There is no sustaining of a body apart from us.” They all departed, but the field was still guarded by the Purusha. Skanda, known as Ahamkara, then said, “Without me, even the emergence of the body cannot occur,” and departed. With him gone, the field remained as if liberated. Bhanu, known as Aditya, became angry and asked, “How can this field exist even for a moment without me?” He departed, yet the body did not decay. Next came Kama and the Matris, declaring, “There is no existence of the body apart from me.” They departed, yet the body remained. Maya, called Durga, spoke in anger, “Without me, there is no existence for this,” and vanished. The directions arose and said, “There is no function without us, certainly.” The four quarters came and departed in a moment. Dhanapati, the wind, claimed, “When I depart, what existence is there for the body?” and left the head. Viṣṇu, as the mind, spoke, “This body cannot endure even for a moment without me,” and vanished. Dharma said, “I have protected all this. Now, with my departure, how will this be?” and departed, yet the body did not decay. Mahadeva, the unmanifest leader, declared, “A body deprived of me, called Mahat, cannot exist,” and departed, but the body still remained. Finally, the fathers and mothers said, “As long as we have dwelt here, this body has gradually decayed because of us.” With these words, they abandoned their bodies and disappeared. The sage concluded, “Fire is the life-breath; apāna is the downward breath; ether and all the elements form the field—the body. The sense of ego, the sun, desires, wood, wind, Viṣṇu, Dharma, Śambhu, and the objects of the senses—all these are by me.” Thus, the king learned from the sage the profound truth: all the powers and principles, though mighty and proud, arise from and dissolve into the Supreme Lord, and only through devotion to Him can one cross the ocean of worldly existence and attain liberation.