The boy stood bravely before the guardians of the quarters, mighty beings whose forms resembled towering mountains. With fierce intent, they struck him down to the earth and pierced him with their elephant tusks. Yet, as he lay there, remembering Govinda, a wondrous thing happened: thousands of tusks shattered upon his chest, leaving him unharmed. Rising, he spoke to his father, saying, “These tusks, sharp as thunderbolts, are broken—not by my own strength, but by the power of remembering Janardana, the destroyer of calamities and sins.” The king of the Asuras, enraged, commanded his followers: “Ignite the fire, O Asuras! Withdraw, O guardians of the quarters! Wind, kindle the flames—let them burn this sinful son of the lord of the Asuras, covered with great logs!” The Danavas, urged by the fire, set the boy ablaze. But he calmly addressed his father, “Though this fire is fanned by the wind, it does not burn me at all. I see lotus beds spread everywhere, and all directions are cool.” Witnessing these miracles, the sons of Bhargava, wise and eloquent priests, spoke to the lord of the Daityas, “O king, restrain your anger toward this boy—your son and younger brother. Let your wrath be directed at the hosts of gods, where it will be fruitful. Thus, in that way, those will become the chastisers of your boy. Childhood is the abode of all faults, O king of the Daityas; therefore, do not direct excessive anger toward a child in this matter. If, by our words, he does not abandon the side of Hari, then we shall employ a magical rite to bring about his death and turn him back.” Heeding the counsel of his priests, the king of the Daityas expelled his son from the assembly of fire. Living in the house of his teacher, the boy continued to instruct the other young Daityas, even amidst the teacher’s other lessons. He addressed them, “Listen to my highest teaching, O Daityas, sons of Diti. Let this not be misunderstood—there is no motive of greed or the like. After birth and childhood, every creature attains youth; then, day by day, old age comes without hindrance. Then, O sons of the lord of the Daityas, death approaches the creature; this is seen directly by us and by you as well. And for the dead, there is rebirth—this is certain, not otherwise; such is the tradition, and in that, there is no arising without a cause. From dwelling in the womb and so on, up to the occasion of rebirth, every stage is nothing but suffering. The cessation of hunger and thirst, or relief from cold and the like, is considered happiness by childish minds, but in truth, that too is only suffering. For those whose limbs are inert, who desire pleasure through exertion, whose senses are veiled by deluded knowledge—even a blow seems pleasurable. What is the body but a mass of phlegm and the like? What beauty, radiance, fragrance, or charm are its qualities? If a fool delights in a body composed of flesh, blood, pus, veins, urine, sinews, marrow, and bones, he will also find joy in hell. Fire is relieved by cold, thirst by water, hunger by food; if one considers these to be causes of happiness, it is actually the opposite. O sons of the Daityas! As long as one maintains attachment, for that long, he brings suffering upon his own mind. As many beloved connections as a creature forms in his mind, just so many shafts of sorrow are driven into his heart. Wherever one’s mind is fixed, regarding whatever in the home, there abide destruction, burning, and loss for him. In every birth, there is great suffering, and for the dying as well; in the fierce torments of Yama and in the transitions through the womb. Even the slightest trace of happiness in the womb is inferred by you; if that is so, then tell me—this entire world is filled with suffering. Thus, in this ocean of existence, which is the very abode of great suffering, you declare truly that Viṣṇu alone is the supreme refuge. We are children and do not know that the embodied soul is eternal in bodies; old age, youth, birth, and such are properties of the body, not of the self. As a child, I think, ‘I will strive for the good when I am young’; as a youth, ‘I will do what is beneficial for myself when I am old.’ When I am old, all my actions are beyond my reach; what can I do then, dull-minded as I am, when I did not act while I was capable? Thus, a person whose mind is always distracted by vain hopes never turns toward the good, like one who is constantly thirsty. In childhood, we are attached to play; in youth, inclined to sense pleasures; led by ignorance and lack of strength, old age suddenly arrives. Therefore, one who is discerning should always strive for the good even in childhood, unbound by the states of childhood, youth, or old age. This I have now told you; if you understand, it is not false. For my satisfaction, O Daityas, remember Him who grants bondage and liberation. What effort is there in remembering Him, whose remembrance bestows auspiciousness? The destruction of sin also comes to those who remember Him without ceasing. May your minds be filled with friendship, day and night, toward Him who dwells in all beings; thus you will cast off all suffering. Who, being wise, grieves for those beings afflicted by the threefold miseries in this entire world? Now, though I am weak, I should still rejoice at the good of beings, for loss is the fruit of sorrow. If beings, bound by enmity, cause sorrow, then, alas, the wise know that those overwhelmed by such delusion are truly to be pitied. These various opinions of the Daityas, arising from differing views, have been described by me. Having accepted this, now hear my summary.