As the churning of the Ocean of Milk reached its wondrous climax, a host of apsaras, endowed with beauty, nobility, and virtues, emerged from the depths, dazzling all who beheld them. Then, from the ocean arose the moon itself, and Maheshvara, the great lord Shiva, took it as his own. Alongside this, the venomous poison that had surfaced was claimed by the nagas, the serpent beings. Next, Dhanvantari, the divine physician, appeared, robed in pure white garments and holding a full water-pot. In his hands was the precious nectar of immortality. Seeing this, the daityas and danavas, the asura hosts, regained their composure and rejoiced with their companions. Amidst this celestial assembly, the goddess Śrī, radiant and resplendent, emerged from the waters, standing upon a blossoming lotus and supported by it. The great sages, overwhelmed with joy, praised her with hymns, while the Gandharvas, led by Viśāvasu, sang before her. The apsaras, led by Ghṛtācī, danced in celebration, and rivers beginning with Gaṅgā approached, offering their waters for her sacred bath. The guardians of the directions brought pure water in golden vessels, bathing the goddess who is sovereign of all worlds. The Ocean of Milk itself, taking a visible form, gifted her a garland of unfading lotuses, and Viśvakarman, the divine architect, fashioned ornaments for her. Clad in divine garments, adorned with ornaments, bathed and garlanded, the goddess Śrī approached Hari, Lord Viṣṇu, and took her place upon his chest as all the gods looked on in awe. As Lakṣmī, standing upon Hari’s chest, gazed upon the gods, they were instantly filled with supreme joy. But the daityas, led by Vipracitti, found themselves abandoned by Lakṣmī and turned away from Viṣṇu, becoming greatly agitated and distressed. In their desperation, the daityas seized the water-pot held by mighty Dhanvantari, which contained the coveted nectar sought by the twice-born. Viṣṇu, assuming the enchanting form of a woman, beguiled the daityas with his divine illusion. He took the nectar from the danavas and bestowed it upon the gods. The hosts of gods, led by Indra, drank the nectar, and the daityas, weapons raised, rushed at them in fury. Empowered by the nectar, the gods fought valiantly. The daitya army was struck down and scattered, fleeing in all directions until they entered Pātāla, the netherworld. Filled with joy, the gods bowed to Viṣṇu, the bearer of the conch, discus, and mace, and returned to their heavenly abode. With order restored, the sun, his radiance renewed, resumed his path, and the stars moved along their courses. The blessed fire blazed forth brilliantly, and righteousness arose in the minds of all beings. The three worlds became adorned with prosperity; Indra, chief of the gods, regained his glory. Seated upon his throne, Indra, having reclaimed heaven, remained as king of the gods and offered heartfelt praise to the goddess with the lotus in her hand: “I bow to Śrī, mother of all beings, born from the lotus, with eyes like blooming lotuses, abiding upon the chest of Viṣṇu. You are accomplishment, you are nectar, Svāhā and Svadhā, the purifier of worlds. You are the union of night and light, prosperity, wisdom, faith, and Sarasvatī. You are the knowledge of sacrifice, the supreme knowledge, the secret knowledge, O beautiful one. You are the knowledge of the self, O goddess, and the bestower of liberation’s fruit. You are inquiry, the three Vedas, commerce, and the science of governance; with gentle and fierce forms, you fill this universe. Who else but you, O goddess, possesses the form composed of all sacrifices, and dwells upon the chest of the Lord of gods, the wielder of the mace, who is contemplated by yogis? When you, O goddess, abandoned the worlds, they were nearly destroyed; now, by your presence, they flourish anew. Wives, sons, houses, friends, grain, wealth, and all such blessings, O greatly fortunate one, always come to people through your glance. Health of body, sovereignty, the destruction of enemies, and happiness are difficult to attain unless one is seen by your gaze. You are the mother of all beings, and Hari, the god of gods, is the father; by you and by Viṣṇu, this world, both moving and unmoving, is pervaded today. Do not, O all-purifying one, abandon our treasury, our cattle pens, our house, our attendants, our bodies, or our wives. Do not abandon, from the chest of my Lord Viṣṇu, our sons, our circle of friends, our cattle, or our ornaments. Men who are abandoned by you, O pure one, are immediately forsaken by virtue, truth, purity, and qualities such as good conduct. Even men without qualities, when looked upon by you, are instantly transformed. He is praiseworthy, virtuous, fortunate, noble, wise, heroic, and valiant—he whom you, O goddess, have looked upon. All virtues such as good conduct immediately turn into faults for that man, O supporter of the world, O beloved of Viṣṇu, whom you have turned away from. Even the tongue of Brahmā cannot describe your qualities; be gracious, O lotus-eyed goddess, never abandon us.” When Śrī was thus properly praised, the goddess spoke to Indra before all the assembled gods, she who abides in all beings. “I am pleased, O Lord of gods, by your hymn, O Hari. Choose a boon, whatever you desire, for I have come as the granter of boons.” Indra replied, “If you are the giver of boons to me, O goddess, and if I am worthy, let this be my supreme boon: that you must never abandon the three worlds.” Thus, the goddess Śrī, the embodiment of prosperity and auspiciousness, granted Indra’s request, ensuring the flourishing of the worlds through her eternal presence.