Just as the center of a potter’s wheel turns slowly, its movement almost imperceptible, so too does it cover only a small distance on the ground, even after a long time. Its progress is sluggish, barely noticeable, and this serves as an apt comparison for the movement of Dhruva, the Pole Star. During the night, as time passes through twelve divisions marked by the stars, Dhruva, like a lump of clay at the wheel’s center, revolves in its place. Between the two posts of the potter’s wheel, the circles spin around, and in the same way, Dhruva rotates steadily in its position. By day and night, the Sun’s journey is sometimes slow, sometimes swift. At night, the Sun’s motion can be especially quick, yet at other times it slows, moving evenly or unevenly along its path. Above all these, Agastya, the great sage-star, moves rapidly, traversing the southern path of the serpent and the northern side of the boundary known as Lokāloka. As long as the Sun’s radiance shines from behind, it casts illumination ahead, lighting the world. Lokāloka Mountain rises to a staggering height of ten thousand yojanas, marking the edge of the world. Within this boundary dwell the stars, the moon, the sun, along with the planets and constellations. Beyond Lokāloka, there is no light; it is the limit of the world’s radiance. This mountain stands firm, encircling the Sun and establishing the boundary between the realms of light and darkness. The sages recognize the divisions of time—dawn and night—and designate the period following dawn as day. By the command of Prajapati, a curse has fallen upon certain wicked beings: thirty million demons known as Mandehas. These evil ones ceaselessly seek to devour the Sun as he blazes fiercely across the sky. To protect the Sun, Brahma, the gods, and the foremost Brahmanas empowered the sacred Gayatri mantra, infusing it with Omkara and the very essence of Brahman. Thus fortified, the Sun—resplendent and powerful—shines on, accompanied by the radiant Valakhilya sages, whose own rays add to his brilliance. Time is measured carefully: a muhūrta consists of thirty kalās, and thirty such muhūrtas make up the full span of day and night. The increase and decrease of days follow their proper order, determined by the portions of the day. When the Sun has moved past three muhūrtas from the appearance of the first crescent, the ensuing three muhūrtas are called saṃgava, or morning. From midday, the next division is known as the afternoon, and after the afternoon has passed, the time is called evening. At the equinox, the tenth and fifth muhūrtas are regarded as the day’s measure. In this cosmic cycle, the day devours the night, and, in turn, the night devours the day. The Moon, impartial, partakes equally of the kalās of both day and night. A month is made of two fortnights, and two months together form a season. Even the smallest measures of time are accounted for: a nimeṣa, a flash of lightning (vidyut), and kāṣṭās, together numbering fifteen. There are thirty-seven mātrās, with an additional seven and two more. In total, there are four thousand eight hundred vidyuts, though some say there are just four hundred and two when combined. Thus, the vast cycles of time, the movements of the celestial bodies, and the boundaries of the world are all set in their places, watched over by the sages and upheld by the power of sacred mantras and divine order.