Heavenly maidens, their eyes as innocent and enchanting as deer, played joyfully with vine bracelets and swung gracefully, their gazes recalling the beauty of lotuses. As they wandered, they beheld lions seated upon high rocky ledges, majestic and powerful, appearing as embodiments of vigor, casting their indifferent gaze across the three worlds. Nearby, elephant chiefs stood with their massive hands resting upon tall palm and creeper trunks. Drowsy from intoxication, they exuded an air of pride, as if they themselves were the very image of grandeur. Camaras, their bodies reddened by flower pollen and the caress of the wind, moved with fluttering tails, tracing auspicious patterns across the earth, their presence a beautiful sight. Bees, ever immersed in the showers of falling blossoms, found refuge among the branches of sarja and date palms, delighting in the ceaseless abundance of flowers. Monkeys, fierce and energetic, wandered about with faces colored by vibrant minerals. They made a raucous commotion, hurling fruits at each other and easily overcoming the reeds in their playful skirmishes. The mountain slopes, dense groves, and hidden palaces lay beneath thick canopies of intertwining vines. Within these secret retreats, accomplished beings were attended by celestial women adorned with the radiant mandāra flowers. Along the riverbanks, layers of colorful minerals gleamed beneath drifting veils of cloud, untouched by human presence, resembling the tranquil detachment of Buddhist ascetics who have renounced all worldly contact. Rivers flowed, their waves entwined with clusters of jasmine and mandāra blossoms, as if the ocean itself had claimed them, each adorned with the freshness of spring. Trees, shaken by the wind, bent under the weight of their abundant flowers. Exhausted by the gift of honey, their bees swirled restlessly, their eyes ever in motion. Amidst this abundant splendor of the king of mountains, the two travelers wandered here and there, passing through lands adorned with cities and towns. In a moment, they arrived at a beautiful river, whose waves mingled with flowers, appearing as if it were composed entirely of blossoms. On the riverbank, Bhṛgu saw a certain youth who had left behind his former body, having attained a new and different state of being. His senses were tranquil, established in deep meditation, his mind steady and unmoving, as if he had found rest and relief from a long and weary journey. It seemed as though he contemplated the endless cycles of worldly existence—filled with joy and sorrow—which, though once enjoyed, had now been long abandoned. His mind had attained a state of perfect stillness, like a wheel that has spun beyond measure, coming to rest after the countless revolutions of the worlds. Bhṛgu beheld him dwelling in utter solitude, radiant in his own inner light, his actions pacified, free from all agitation and confusion of mind. Seated in the absorption beyond thought, withdrawn from the play of opposites, he smiled gently at the ever-turning courses of the worlds, his mind cooled and serene. Bhṛgu saw in him one who knows all events, whose curiosity had vanished, who had dispelled the net of imagination, and who had taken refuge in the supreme state. He rested in infinite repose, established in the Self, grasping at nothing, like a pure crystal lying still. Freed from all notions of acceptance and rejection, his mind fully awakened and steadfast, Bhṛgu recognized his own son. At that moment, Time itself spoke to Bhṛgu, its voice resounding like the roar of the ocean: "That is your son." At these words, "Awaken," Bhārgava gradually emerged from his deep samādhi, like the lord of birds rising at the sound of thunder. Opening his eyes, he saw before him the two mighty Kālabhṛgus, radiant as if the moon and sun had appeared together. Rising from his seat amidst the kadamba creepers, he bowed reverently to the two noble brāhmaṇas, who seemed as glorious as Hari and Hara meeting together. After exchanging greetings, they all sat together upon a rock, revered like Brahmā, Viṣṇu, and Hara gathered on the summit of Meru. Then, the brāhmaṇa named Śāntatapas, seated by the riverbank, addressed them with gentle words, sweet as a stream of nectar: "Today, by seeing you both, I have found contentment, just as the world rejoices when the cool moon and the warm sun appear together. The delusion of my mind, which could not be dispelled by scriptures, austerity, knowledge, or learning, has now faded away at the sight of you. Even the inner showers of pure nectar do not bring such joy as does the presence of the great ones. With your feet, radiant with great splendor, you have sanctified this land, just as the moon and sun purify the sky." When he had spoken thus, Bhṛgu addressed the son from his former birth: "Remember yourself—you are awakened, not ignorant, O best of the Raghu lineage." Thus awakened by Bhṛgu, he recalled for a moment the states of his previous births, his eyes opening in meditation. With his face bright with wonder and his heart filled with joy, that best of speakers spoke slowly, his words heavy with reflection: "Victory to the ever-active power of destiny belonging to the Supreme Self, by whose command this world-wheel, full of enjoyment, revolves. My past births are countless and unknown; those states, filled with their own experiences, have now been remembered as needed. I have enjoyed many pursuits and extraordinary fortunes, and countless results of various states, stretching to the very ends of aeons. I have seen the harsh struggles and delusions of amassing wealth, and have long wandered, free from sorrow, even on the slopes of Meru. "On the banks of the Mandakini, the gods drank fragrant milk tinged red by the blossoms of the heavenly coral tree, along with all manner of delicacies. They wandered among groves of wish-fulfilling trees, amidst blooming golden creepers and tall palm trees, upon Mount Meru's slopes adorned with the shade and flowers of celestial trees.