She, fearing the weight of a curse, tried to avoid it and so confided her troubles to the Sun. Hearing her words, the Sun, troubled by what he learned, went to his father-in-law to seek counsel. The father-in-law, after honoring the Sun as was proper, saw the Sun’s anger burning bright and spoke to him with gentle, soothing words. He explained, “This form of yours, pervaded by such intense radiance, is nearly impossible to endure. Unable to bear it, Saṃjñā has gone into the forest, practicing austerities. Today, you will see your virtuous wife, performing great penance in the wilderness, all for the sake of your form. I have heard Brahmā’s counsel on how your radiance might be restrained. Today, O lord of the day, I will create a pleasing form for you.” The blessed Sun agreed, saying, “So be it,” and spoke to Tvaṣṭṛ, the divine craftsman. Thereafter, the form of Vivasvat, the Sun, became more refined. Viśvakarman, having received Vivasvat’s permission in Śākadvīpa, began the work of diminishing the Sun’s radiance by a whirling motion. Yet, the brilliance was so intense that it could not be subdued, even by the whirling of all the worlds. The radiance ascended the earth, the oceans, the mountains, and the sky. The entire sky, along with the moon, planets, and stars, was cast downward, agitated and disturbed. All the oceans churned, great mountains with their ridges and bases shattered and split apart. The very supports and abodes of the world, once held together by the Sun’s rays, broke and fell down. Thousands of vast clouds, tossed by the force of the whirling wind, scattered, resounding with terrifying noise. The earth, sky, and underworld—all bewildered by this whirling brilliance—were thrown into great agitation. Witnessing the turmoil of the three worlds, the divine sages and gods, together with Brahmā, praised the radiant Sun: “You are the primordial god of the gods, born for the welfare of the world. In creation, preservation, and dissolution, you exist in threefold distinction. May there be well-being for you, Lord of the universe, Sun who brings both heat and rain.” Indra and the other gods joined in these praises as the Sun’s new form was being shaped. “Victory to you, O Lord, Master of the universe! Victory to you, Lord of all the worlds!” cried the seven sages, led by Vasiṣṭha and Atri, offering hymns and words of blessing, uttering the foremost Vedic declarations. The Vālakhilya sages too offered their praise. Agni and the other gods, filled with joy, praised the radiant Sun as his form was being depicted, declaring, “You are the liberation of those who seek freedom, the supreme object of meditation for those who contemplate. You are the path for all beings revolving in the cycle of action; you are to be worshipped, O Lord of the gods. May there be peace for us, O Lord of the worlds. May there always be peace for us who walk on two legs, and for those with four legs.” The hosts of Vidyādharas, Yakṣas, Rākṣasas, and serpents—all with hands joined in reverence and heads bowed—saluted the Sun and spoke words pleasing to mind and ear: “May your radiance be bearable for the beings you have brought forth.” Then Hāhā, Hūhū, Nārada, and Tumburu—skilled in Gandharva music—began to sing to the Sun, using the three modes: Ṣaḍja, Madhyama, and Gāndhāra. With modulations, rhythms, and harmonious combinations that brought delight, Viśvācī, Ghṛtācī, Urvaśī, and Tilottamā—along with Menakā, Sahajanyā, and Rambhā, foremost among Apsarases—danced before the Lord of the worlds as the Sun’s new form was fashioned. They performed expressive gestures of emotion, mood, and grace, their singing accompanied by the sounds of lutes, flutes, and other instruments. Drums, cymbals, mridangas, paṭahas, anakas, divine kettledrums, and conches resounded by the hundreds and thousands. With Gandharvas and hosts of Apsarases singing and dancing, and the tumult of all kinds of instruments, the entire space was filled with sound. Then, with joined hands and bodies bowed in devotion, all the gods paid homage to the thousand-rayed Sun as his new form was being shaped. Amidst this mighty tumult, as all the gods assembled, Viśvakarman gradually diminished the Sun’s radiance. As the image reached down to the knees, skillfully crafted, the Sun did not approve of the depiction, and so he was made to descend. Yet, the form was not diminished by the reduction of radiance; instead, a form more beautiful than the beautiful shone forth. Thus, due to the influences of cold, water, heat, and time—as praised by Hara, Kamala, and Vishnu—the Sun, hearing the sacred inscription above, proceeds to the realm of daylight at the end of its lifespan. In this way, O best of sages, the birth of the Sun occurred in ancient times, and thus I have fully described his supreme form. The sages, not yet satisfied, asked once more, “Tell us again the story of the Sun. We never tire of hearing that auspicious tale. This radiant, mighty, blazing one, whose brilliance is like a mass of fire—we wish to know the source of his power, O Lord.” In the beginning, when the worlds were enveloped in darkness and all that is movable and immovable was lost, the qualities of nature stirred, and intellect arose first. From intellect, ego was born, which set the great elements in motion. Then came air, fire, water, space, and earth, and from them, the cosmic egg was born. Within that cosmic egg, the seven worlds were established, as well as the earth with its seven continents and seven seas.