Vaitasena, having experienced the company of Urvashi, became utterly indifferent to worldly realms. Free from all attachment, he wandered the earth, delighting solely in the self. Now, in the subtle fabric of existence, the qualities of touch—softness and hardness, coldness and heat—arise from the subtle element associated with air. Air itself is marked by movement, gathering, acquisition, leadership among objects and sounds, and serves as the very essence of all the senses. From this subtle element of touch, belonging to air and guided by the divine, form came into being. With form, light emerged, and the eye became the instrument for perceiving form. The pure existence of form, its property as an attribute, and its individuality—these are the functions of fire, O virtuous one. Fire, in turn, illuminates, cooks, heats, burns, dispels cold, dries, and causes hunger and thirst. From the purity of form, transformed by fire and impelled by the divine, pure taste arose. From taste came water, and the tongue became the organ for perceiving taste. Taste, though one, is differentiated by the transformations of the elements into astringent, sweet, bitter, pungent, and sour, in various combinations. Water moistens, solidifies, satisfies, sustains life, nourishes, delights, quenches heat, and brings abundance. From pure taste, transformed by water and moved by the divine, pure scent arose. From scent came earth, and the nose became the organ for perceiving scent. The single essence of scent is further distinguished—earthy, putrid, fragrant, mild, strong, sour, and more—due to the varied combinations of material elements. Earth serves as the ground for all formation, the abode of Brahman, support, and the true distinction among beings, for in earth all qualities manifest. Each sense has its special domain: hearing is for space, touch for air, sight for fire, taste for water, and smell for earth. Properties are observed in one thing but not another due to their combinations, and the distinction of entities is ultimately recognized in earth. These seven principles—beginning with the great principle—when joined together and endowed with time, action, and qualities, entered into the primordial form of the universe. Thus, when these elements were penetrated and united, the inert cosmic egg arose. From this egg, the Cosmic Person emerged and rose as Virāṭ. This cosmic egg, surrounded in order by ten successive coverings—water and so forth—and enveloped by primordial matter, is the very expanse where all worlds exist; it is the form of the blessed Hari. Rising from the golden shell, lying upon the waters, the great god entered the egg and split open space in many ways. First, his mouth opened, from which speech arose; from speech came fire. Then the nostrils opened, from which breath arose, and with it, the sense of smell. From smell came air; then the eyes opened, and sight arose; from sight came the sun. The ears opened, giving rise to hearing, and from hearing, the directions. Virāj then split open the skin, from which hair and body hair appeared, followed by the emergence of plants, and then the generative organ was formed. From semen, water arose; the anus was formed and opened. From the anus came apāna, and from apāna, death—the terror of the world. The hands emerged and opened, giving rise to strength, and from strength, Indra. The feet formed and opened, giving rise to movement, and from movement, Viṣṇu. His veins opened, filling with blood, and thus rivers came into being, followed by the opening of the abdomen. Then hunger and thirst arose, with the ocean as their support. Next, his heart was split, and from the heart, the mind emerged. From the mind, the moon was born; from intellect, the lord of speech; from ego, Rudra; and from consciousness, the inner witness. Yet, though these deities had arisen, they could not make the Cosmic Person rise. Each re-entered their respective places, seeking to awaken him in turn. Fire entered the mouth as speech, but the Cosmic Being did not rise. Air entered the nostrils as smell, but he did not rise. The sun entered the eyes as sight, but he did not rise. The directions entered the ears as hearing, but he did not rise. Herbs entered the skin with hair, but he did not rise. Waters entered the genitals with semen, but he did not rise. Death entered the anus with apāna, but he did not rise. Indra entered the hands with strength, but he did not rise. Viṣṇu entered the feet with movement, but he did not rise. Rivers entered the veins with blood, but he did not rise. The ocean entered the abdomen with hunger and thirst, but he did not rise. The moon entered the heart with the mind, but he did not rise. Even Brahmā entered the heart with intellect, but he did not rise. Rudra entered the heart with ego, but still, the Cosmic Being did not rise. Only when the inner witness, the knower of the field, entered the heart with consciousness, did the Cosmic Person arise from the waters. Just as in a sleeping person, the life-airs, senses, mind, and intellect are present but cannot awaken him without the vital energy, so too, with a mind engaged in yoga, one must discern and contemplate within oneself that innermost Self, through devotion, detachment, and knowledge. At another time, Śuka continued: When the mountain was held aloft and the people of Vraja were shielded from the fierce downpour, Surabhi and Indra approached Kṛṣṇa in Goloka. Indra, ashamed of his offense, came to him in private, touched Kṛṣṇa’s feet, his crown shining like the sun, and sought forgiveness.