In the beginning, before anything took shape, there was that which was devoid of all qualities we know—without smell, without form, without taste, untouched by sound or touch. This was the unmanifest, subtle and hidden, yet it became the very form from which all beings would arise. This unmanifest, this Brahman, lies beyond both being and non-being. It is unknowable, inaccessible to ordinary perception, shrouded from the senses and mind. At that primordial moment, when the fundamental qualities—sattva, rajas, and tamas—were in perfect equilibrium, Brahman did not shine forth. It was veiled in darkness, latent and unexpressed. But when these qualities stirred and became manifest, from them arose the great principle, Mahat. At the dawn of this emergence, sattva predominated, and so Mahat shone forth as pure existence. Only the unmanifest appeared at first, presided over by the knower of the field, who is ever present within. Freed from any trace of pride, impelled by the desire to create, this great principle began the act of creation. From Mahat arose the mind, O Brahman, a subtle, all-pervading power difficult to fathom, bestowed by the Lord. This mind perceives all beings, and thus the all-pervading one becomes the fruit of action. Because Mahat contains the essence of all principles and is vast beyond measure, it perceives both unity and division, recognizing separation among things. Its greatness lies in its vastness, its capacity to expand, and its role as the foundation of all entities. It fills all bodies, bestowing its gifts upon them. Within Mahat, the function and instrument of Brahman were established from the earliest times. When Brahman assumes a body, he is called the first person, Puruṣa, from the very beginning. He is the original creator of all beings, the Brahman who existed before all else. In both creation and dissolution, this knower of the field, Brahman, remains steadfast and unchanged. Again and again, at each conjunction of cosmic cycles, beings assume bodies, only to dissolve like water in a pit back into the five elements. The earth, with its seven continents and seven oceans, all the worlds—indeed, the entire universe—exists within this cosmic principle. Whatever exists within the cosmic egg, whether worlds or non-worlds, is established therein. Outside this cosmic egg, layers envelop it: first wind, then fire, each covering the previous one, each tenfold more intense. All of space is enclosed by the elements—earth and the rest—so that the cosmic egg is wrapped in seven natural sheaths. At the time of creation, these coverings remain, and in dissolution, each consumes the other in turn. All these modifications exist in a relationship of support and supported, among all that is created. Thus unfolds the natural creation, presided over by the knower of the field, who is long-lived, renowned, fortunate, and wise—of this there can be no doubt. Then, at the heart of all, Pradhāna (the primordial matter) and Puruṣa (the conscious spirit) remain together, sharing the same essential nature. They are mutual companions, neither surpassing nor lagging behind the other. When sattva increases, there is stability, steady and unwavering, like the tip of a lotus. Rajas is the principle of activity, like water nurturing seeds to sprout. When the qualities are agitated, one must carefully discern the three: sattva, rajas, and tamas. Sattva is Viṣṇu, rajas is Brahmā, and tamas is Rudra, the lord of creatures. From these three, the creation of the worlds arises, endowed with immense energy. Viṣṇu, manifesting sattva, is established as the principle of preservation. These very three—sattva, rajas, and tamas—are the Vedas themselves; they are also the sacred fires. They interact and impel one another, each playing its role in the eternal dance of creation, preservation, and dissolution.