Śrī Parāśara continued, “O Maitreya, after hearing the teachings in full, the king’s son emerged from the forest and humbly bowed to the assembled sages. Feeling he had fulfilled his duty, that noble twice-born youth journeyed to the sacred place called Madhu, situated on the banks of the Yamunā river. This holy region was once ruled by the demon Madhu, and thus became known throughout the earth as Madhuvana. There, after vanquishing Lavaṇa—the powerful demon son of Madhu—Śatrughna established the city of Mathurā. In this sanctified land, which removes all sins and where the Lord Hari is ever-present, the prince undertook rigorous austerities. Following the guidance of the sages led by Marīci, he contemplated Viṣṇu, the Lord of gods, as dwelling within himself. With unwavering concentration, he meditated upon the blessed Hari, and, O brāhmaṇa, the Lord became manifest in all beings and forms before him. As Viṣṇu became firmly established in his mind, O Maitreya, the earth herself, bearer of all creatures, could no longer bear her weight. When the prince stood on his left foot, the earth bent under half her burden; when he shifted to his right, the other half bowed down. Pressing the earth with his big toe, the entire world, along with its mountains, began to tremble. Rivers, streams, and oceans were thrown into turmoil, and even the gods were deeply troubled by this disturbance. In their distress, the gods known as Yāmās, together with Indra, convened and resolved to break the prince’s meditation. The Kūṣmāṇḍas, assuming various forms, joined Indra in their urgent attempt to disrupt his penance. At that moment, his mother, Sunīti, appeared before him. Through words conjured by illusion and filled with compassion, she pleaded, ‘My son… My child, turn back from this harsh destruction of your body; you were granted to me after much effort and many prayers. Do not abandon me, helpless and alone, because of the words of a co-wife. You, my only refuge, would leave me?’ ‘How can you, only five years old, undertake such severe austerity? Let your mind turn away from these harsh and fruitless efforts. There is a time for play and then for your studies; only after enjoying all pleasures should you pursue austerity. O child, your youth is meant for play; why do you seek austerities now, delighting in self-destruction?’ ‘My affection is your highest virtue; follow the proper order of duties for your age. Do not, out of delusion, forsake this and act unrighteously. If you abandon this austerity, my dear one, I will not give up my life here before your eyes.’ Śrī Parāśara said: Though she wept and spoke incoherently, her eyes streaming with tears, the prince—his mind fixed on Viṣṇu—did not look at her, even though he saw her. Sunīti continued, ‘My child, my child, terrible and fearsome demons, armed with weapons, are approaching in the forest; flee from here!’ With these words, she departed, and soon the demons appeared, brandishing fierce weapons, their faces wreathed in blazing flames. Before the prince, the night-wandering demons whirled their flaming weapons and unleashed them with dreadful roars. Hundreds of jackals howled, their mouths aflame, seeking to terrify the boy who remained absorbed in yoga. ‘Strike him! Strike him down! Cut him! Cut him! Eat him! Eat him!’ cried the demons. The night-wandering demons, their faces resembling lions, camels, and crocodiles, made terrifying noises to frighten the prince. Yet, neither their howls, nor the jackals, nor their weapons disturbed the awareness of the boy whose mind was absorbed in Govinda. With unwavering concentration and seeing Viṣṇu as his sole refuge, the prince perceived nothing else. When all these illusions vanished, the gods were once again greatly disturbed, fearing defeat. They gathered and approached Hari, the source of the universe, beginningless and endless, the refuge of all, distressed by the prince’s austerities. The gods addressed the Lord: ‘O God of gods, Lord of the universe, Supreme Lord, Best of Men, afflicted by Dhruva’s austerities, we have come to you for refuge. Just as the moon grows day by day, so too does he increase in power through his penance. O Janārdana, through the austerities of the son of Uttānapāda, we have become fearful and seek your protection; please turn him away from his austerities. We do not know whether he desires the position of Indra, or of the Sun, or wishes for the realms of the gods of wealth, water, or the moon. O Lord, be gracious to us; remove the thorn from our hearts and turn the son of Uttānapāda away from his penance.’ The Blessed Lord replied, ‘He does not seek the position of Indra, nor that of Sūrya, nor lordship over the waters; whatever desire he holds, O gods, I shall fulfill it completely. Go, O gods, as you wish, to your own abodes, freed from distress. I myself shall turn the boy, absorbed in austerity, away from his penance.’ Parāśara concluded, “Thus addressed by the Lord of gods, the deities, led by Śatakratu, bowed and departed to their own realms.