The Daityas and Dānavas, troubled by the presence of a child whose mind was exceedingly wicked and who could not be overcome by illusions or subdued even by the mighty elephants of the quarters, concluded that keeping him alive served no purpose. Resolving to contain him, they decided he should remain imprisoned in the midst of the waters, hemmed in by mountains, for a thousand years—believing that, in time, his evil mind would meet its end. With this intent, the Daityas and Dānavas ascended great mountains and constructed a vast embankment in the ocean, stretching for thousands of yojanas. This immense barrier, made of mountains and built within the ocean itself, was a marvel praised even by the wise. At the time of his daily worship, the single-minded Prahlāda, though confined, addressed the imperishable Lord with devotion. Prahlāda bowed to the lotus-eyed One, the Supreme Person, the soul of all worlds, the wielder of the sharp discus, offering salutations again and again. He praised the God of the Vedas, the benefactor of cows and Brahmins, and saluted Kṛṣṇa, the benefactor of the world, Govinda, over and over. He acknowledged the Lord as Brahmā, the creator; as Viṣṇu, the preserver; and as Rudra, the destroyer at the end of the age—saluting Him as the three-formed One. Prahlāda recognized that all beings—gods, Yakṣas, Suras, Siddhas, Nāgas, Gandharvas, Kinnaras, Piśācas, Rākṣasas, humans, and animals—along with birds, stationary beings, ants, reptiles, the elements of earth, water, fire, ether, air, and the senses of sound, touch, and taste; form, smell, mind, intellect, self, time, and all qualities—all are, in truth, the Lord Himself. He declared the Lord to be both knowledge and ignorance, truth and untruth, poison and nectar, action and renunciation, and the very actions prescribed in the Vedas. Prahlāda proclaimed Viṣṇu as the enjoyer of all actions, the instruments of action, and the fruits of all deeds. He understood that in himself, in others, in all beings, and throughout all worlds, the Lord’s sovereignty alone is manifest. Yogis contemplate Him, sacrificers worship Him, and He alone is the enjoyer of offerings to gods and ancestors, bearing both forms. Prahlāda saw the Lord’s great form pervading the universe and the subtle world, all forms and distinctions arising from Him, and within them, the innermost, exceedingly subtle self. Beyond even this subtlety, in what is imperceptible to the senses, Prahlāda recognized the Supreme Self—a form inconceivable, to whom he offered salutations. He praised the eternal power of the Lord, present in all beings and selves, resting on qualities, and saluted Her, the supreme sovereign power who is beyond speech, mind, knowledge, and ignorance. With the sacred syllable Om, Prahlāda saluted again and again the blessed Vāsudeva, who is not separate from anything, and from whom nothing is separate. He offered salutations to the great soul, who is not apprehended as name or form, nor as a single entity, and whose incarnate forms are worshipped by the gods, though His supreme form remains unseen. Prahlāda bowed to the Supreme Lord who, abiding within all, witnesses everything auspicious and inauspicious, and is the universe itself. He saluted Viṣṇu, by whose power the world is diverse, the first of beings, worthy of meditation, and prayed that the imperishable One be gracious to him. He implored Hari, the support of all, in whom and by whom the imperishable, undecaying universe is woven, to be gracious. With Om, he saluted Viṣṇu, in whom all exists, from whom all arises, and who is the refuge of all. Then, Prahlāda experienced the all-pervasiveness of the infinite, realizing, “I alone am established; all is from me, I am all, all abides in me, the eternal.” He understood himself as the imperishable, eternal, the supreme self, the refuge of the self, known as Brahman at the beginning and the Supreme Person at the end. By contemplating Viṣṇu with a pure mind, Prahlāda attained unity with Him, seeing his own self as the infallible One. He forgot his individual self and knew nothing else, thinking, “I alone am the imperishable, infinite, supreme self.” Through this deep contemplation, as his sins diminished, his inner being became pure, and Viṣṇu, the infallible Lord, revealed Himself as knowledge itself. By the power of yoga, as Prahlāda became filled with Viṣṇu, the bonds of the serpents that held him were instantly broken. The great ocean was agitated, waves disturbed; the whole earth, with its mountains, forests, and groves, trembled. Casting off the great stone placed upon him by the demons, Prahlāda, now wise and free, emerged from the waters. Seeing once more the world, the sky, and its marks, Prahlāda remembered himself as himself. Again, with concentrated, undisturbed mind, speech, and body, he praised the primeval, supreme person. He saluted the highest reality, the meaning of the highest truth—gross and subtle, perishable and imperishable, manifest and unmanifest, beyond divisions, Lord of all, the stainless One. He acknowledged the Lord as the supporter and foundation of all qualities, whose essence is beyond qualities, stable in them; with form and without form, of great and subtle form, clear and unclear. He recognized Him as fierce and gentle, abode of knowledge and ignorance, existence and non-existence, true being, creator of all states. Prahlāda praised the One whose nature is both eternal and non-eternal manifestation, untouched by illusion, pure, singular, and unique—the original cause, Vāsudeva. He offered salutations to the Supreme Person, who is gross and subtle, manifest and luminous, who is all beings yet not all beings, from whom the universe arises and who is the cause of the non-universe.