The Purāṇikas recount that Vyāsa, born from the illustrious line of Viṣṇu, was himself not immune to delusion. Even he, renowned sage though he was, found himself like a merchant whose boat has shattered—sinking helplessly into the vast ocean of confusion. On this day, Vyāsa, despite all his wisdom, was overtaken by helplessness, weeping like an ordinary man. Such is the formidable power of Māyā—hard to abandon, even for the learned. In his bewilderment, Vyāsa was overwhelmed by questions: “Who is this? Who am I? What is this confusion and how has it come about?” Within his body, made of the five elements, arose the notions of ‘father’ and ‘son’—attachments born of illusion. Truly, Māyā is powerful, deluding even the most accomplished magicians; so potent is her grasp that even Kṛṣṇa Dvaipāyana, the twice-born, was moved to tears under her sway. At this time, Sūta, bowing in his mind to the Goddess—the source of all causes, the mother and sovereign of Brahmā and all the gods—narrated what followed. Śuka, Vyāsa’s son, approached his sorrowful father, who was as one burned by grief, and spoke words full of reason and auspiciousness. “O most fortunate son of Parāśara,” Śuka said gently, “you are the very giver of understanding to all. Why do you grieve, master, like one ignorant of the truth? Today I am your son, but I do not know who I was in a previous birth. Who am I, and who are you, O blessed one? This confusion clouds even the wise. “Steadfastness is needed, not despair. Recognize this as the net of delusion and abandon sorrow, O wise one. Hunger is appeased by food, not by seeing one’s son; thirst is quenched by water, not by beholding one’s child. The nose delights in fragrance, the ear in sound; a woman’s pleasure is with a woman—so, being your son, what can I truly do for you? “Even Ajīgarta gave his own son to King Hariścandra for the sake of cattle and sacrifice, selling him for a price. Wealth is the means to happiness, and happiness is gathered from riches; if you seek wealth from greed, what can I, your son, do for you? Instruct me with your wisdom, for you know the course of destiny. Teach me so I may be freed from the fear of birth and death. “Human birth is rare in this world of action, O sinless one; rarer still is birth as a Brāhmaṇa in a noble family. Yet, the thought that I am bound does not depart from my mind; it grows ever stronger in the net of worldly desires.” Sūta continued: Thus addressed by his son, whose intellect was boundless, Vyāsa responded to Śuka, who was serene and intent on renunciation. Vyāsa said, “O blessed son, recite the Bhāgavata that I have composed—a Purāṇa auspicious and concise, esteemed by the wise as equal to the Veda. It contains twelve books and embodies the five great characteristics. Among all the Purāṇas, I consider it the ornament. By merely hearing this Bhāgavata, knowledge of the real and unreal, and true understanding, will arise. Therefore, recite it, O wise one. “Consider this: To Viṣṇu, who lay as a child upon the banyan leaf, came the question—by whom was I created in this state of childhood, though I am the conscious self? For what purpose, by whom, and with what means do I know all this? Thus pondering, Viṣṇu, the great soul, turned his thoughts to Mukunda. “At that time, the Goddess spoke in half a verse, conveying the essence of all truth: ‘Indeed, all this is only Myself; there is nothing else eternal.’ This profound statement was realized by Viṣṇu in his mind, and he wondered, ‘By whom was this true speech uttered?’ He reflected deeply: ‘How can I know the one who will speak—the speaker—whether woman, man, or neither?’ With such thoughts, the Bhāgavata was held in his heart. “Again and again, his mind fixed on that utterance, he repeated the words. Lying on the banyan leaf, he was filled with anxious thoughts. Then, the serene Goddess appeared before him—four-armed, holding conch, discus, mace, and lotus, auspicious and adorned with divine weapons. She was clothed in celestial garments, adorned with radiant ornaments, and surrounded by companions who shone with her own powers. “She manifested before Viṣṇu of immeasurable brilliance, smiling gently—Mahālakṣmī, auspicious-faced. Sūta said: Seeing her thus, the lotus-eyed one, his heart captivated, was astonished as he floated unsupported in that wondrous ocean. “Around the Great Goddess stood many powers: Love, prosperity, intellect, discernment, fame, memory, fortitude, faith, wisdom, Svadhā, Svāhā, hunger, sleep, compassion, movement, contentment, nourishment, forgiveness, modesty, yawning, and drowsiness. Each power stood distinct, adorned with splendid weapons and ornaments, garlanded with coral-tree flowers and pearl necklaces. “Beholding her and her retinue in that single ocean of water, Janārdana’s heart was filled with wonder. The All-Self, seeing this marvel, was greatly astonished and thought, ‘From where have all these women arisen? How am I lying here on this banyan leaf? In this dreadful, single ocean, how has this banyan tree arisen? By whom have I been placed here as a child of auspicious form? Is this my mother, or not? Or is she some unfathomable Māyā? By whom has this vision been given today, and for what reason? What should I do here—should I speak, should I go somewhere, or should I remain silent, steadfast in my childlike state, alert and watchful?’ “Seeing the astonished god lying on the banyan leaf, the Goddess smiled and spoke: ‘Viṣṇu, why are you astonished? By the power of the Great Śakti, you once forgot me; at the time of creation and dissolution, you are born again and again.’” Thus, the story unfolds—revealing the profound play of Māyā, the wisdom of the sages, and the eternal mystery of the Goddess, who is the source and sustainer of all.