As I have witnessed and described, the world had fallen into decline—a time when study and the sacred utterances of sacrifice had faded away, when festivals and auspicious rites had ceased altogether. People had abandoned the pursuit of learning and given up their daily dealings; the rule of law was forsaken, and life itself seemed to persist only as a breath, with all else lost. Thus, the world was plunged into sorrow, and then into a state even worse than before, until exhaustion overtook all. In this dark time, Brahma spoke, saying, “I know of Bāṣkali, who, emboldened by the boon he received, now stands proud. I consider him invincible to you all—only Viṣṇu can reach him.” With these words, Brahma restrained himself and entered deep meditation. From the power of his concentration alone, the four-armed one—Viṣṇu—appeared. In but a moment, as all looked on, Viṣṇu arrived, drawn forth by Brahma’s meditation. Viṣṇu addressed Brahma: “Cease your meditation, for it has summoned me. I have come to fulfill the purpose for which you called me.” Brahma, overwhelmed with gratitude, replied, “This is a great favor, Lord, that you have appeared here. For whom else would such deep concern for the world arise? My own creation was for the sake of the world, but truly, this world is yours, so there is no wonder in your compassion.” Brahma continued, “It is you who must protect the world, and only Rudra is to dissolve it. In this world as it stands, Indra, the great-souled one, has lost the kingdom of the three worlds—all that moves and is unmoving has been seized by Bāṣkali. Keśava, your servant, must be aided by the granting of a mantra.” Viṣṇu, also known as Vāsudeva, replied, “By your boon, Bāṣkali is invulnerable. But he can be overcome by intelligence—this demon must be bound. I shall become Vāmana, the destroyer of the Dānavas. Let Indra go with me to the abode of Bāṣkala. There, let him request on my behalf three steps of land, O King, from Vāmana, the Brāhmaṇa. Grant this, O most fortunate one, for I have asked. Indra has said that the lord of the Dānavas would even give his own life.” Viṣṇu continued, “Once the gift is received from that Dānava, O Grandfather, bind him and with effort make him dwell in the netherworld. I shall also assume the form of a boar to destroy that wicked one—there is no doubt. Go swiftly, O Indra.” Having spoken thus, Viṣṇu became invisible. Then, after some time, he entered the womb of Aditi. When Viṣṇu, the support of the entire world, entered her womb, many terrible omens appeared in various forms. Yet, at the same time, an auspicious and powerful omen occurred: a fragrant, delightful breeze carrying mālatī flowers blew gently. When the appointed time arrived, according to the destined order, the compassionate god—radiant as the rising moon and conch, with pure and sparse hair—was born as the son of Aditi, for the welfare of all beings and the hosts of gods. As Viṣṇu descended, the faces of the perfected ones, gods, and asuras became radiant, their eyes unblinking in wonder. Even the day itself shone brightly, with the dust subdued by the winds, when Viṣṇu was born in the womb. Aditi, the queen, carried the divine child heavily, her gait gentle and slow, her face weary and pale from the burden of the deeply entered embryo. When Nārāyaṇa truly entered her womb, by the union of past and future, all beings at that time found their unfulfilled desires granted effortlessly. Gentle winds blew, the rains fell, and the mountains arose. On lonely paths and in distant lands, among all people, truth prevailed. As dust was released into the sky, darkness gradually vanished. Yet, when Viṣṇu was within the womb, the intention of enmity also arose. “Observe, O king, the order of the goddess, the mother of the gods,” the narrative proclaims, “for I shall cross the three worlds. I shall make Bāṣkali, lord of the Dānavas, dwell in the netherworld, and to Indra I have given wealth and beauty. For the destruction of the Dānavas, I alone am able; I shall hurl showers of arrows and many chariot-wheels, and various groups of maces for their destruction. The gods will dwell in heaven, and the Dānavas in the lower worlds.” Viṣṇu affirmed, “I perform such acts at the proper time, as is my vow. Yet suddenly, speech emerged at my lips. That which was previously only contemplated, neither seen nor heard before—behold, out of anger, I have placed a binding upon the chief of the Daityas. The wealth and beauty once given to Kaśyapa—has this wind lost its vigor, or are the winds themselves disturbed? My vision seems to wander, as if what was conceived has taken form. Possessed as I am, what can I say when some unfitting word has escaped me?” Overcome by doubt and constant agitation, Aditi bore the divine Lord within her heart for a thousand celestial years. Then, at last, the wondrous Dwarf—Vāmana—was born to her, and by his birth, the eyes of the Dānavas were indeed taken away. At the very moment when Janārdana, the Lord of gods, was born, the rivers flowed with pure water, and the fragrant wind blew. Kaśyapa, too, found happiness in his radiant son, and the hearts of all beings throughout the three worlds were filled with enthusiasm. When Janārdana, the Lord of beings, was born, celestial drums resounded in heaven, struck joyfully by the gods. Great joy swept the three worlds, dispelling delusion and suffering. The hosts of Gandharvas sang with utmost devotion, joined by radiant spirits, as all creation rejoiced at the birth of the divine Vāmana.