Released from the well-known heat and freed from the bonds of virtue, all things passed through the vast night of Brahmā, whose own birth is unmanifest and mysterious. When the denizens of the three worlds had entered into that profound state, the earth itself became submerged—whether by the deluge of rain or in the desolate vastness of the primordial oceans. At this time, the waters, so called, surged forth, carrying with them even the mountains. The ocean, expanding and immense, covered the entire earth and thus came into being. All elements gathered together, and within this union, the cycles of months and the shining radiances could be discerned. The elemental essence spread out, and from it, the subtle beings—those remembered from before—remained. Within this single, all-encompassing ocean, the waters endured; they were not destroyed. Thus, for as long as that night of Brahmā lasted, all beings, all people, existed in the form of water. The wind was stilled, darkness prevailed, and not a single light shone from any direction. In the midst of this profound stillness, Brahmā resolved once more to initiate the division of the world. At that moment, he assumed the form of Brahmā, possessed of a thousand eyes and a thousand feet. Brahmā—who is also known as Nārāyaṇa—rested upon the waters, wrapped in sleep during that time. With this, the first step in the ancient account has been told. Having heard this, Kapeya, filled with delight, began to ask further questions. In response, the sage, well-versed in the cycles of time, prepared to explain the succession of ages. Kapeya expressed his heartfelt wish to understand everything thoroughly, recognizing the sage’s mastery. The sage then began to narrate the complete origin of the three worlds—the past, the future, and the succession of cycles that join them. He spoke of the present cycle, the auspicious Varāha Kalpa, which exists now, and urged Kapeya to understand the intermediate state that lies between one cycle and the next. In time, yet another cycle begins, along with Janaloka and the other higher worlds. At the end of each cycle, all beings are utterly dissolved. Yet, within the Manvantaras—the reigns of the Manus—the junctions of the four Yugas continue without interruption. The sage briefly summarized the previous cycles as they had been recounted for the sake of understanding the grand process. There was a cycle in the distant past, beyond the great half-period. Of those cycles, the first is the very one now existing, O twice-born Kapeya. This is the period of stability; but after this, the time of withdrawal and dissolution will come again, as is remembered in tradition. In former times, there were a thousand sets of four Yugas, each combined with its own Manvantara. During those ages, the gods dwelling in the celestial realms existed in great numbers: twenty-eight crores of virtuous beings, and then three hundred crore, as well as ninety-two crore more. In every cycle, the gods known as ‘celestial beings’ are remembered. Alongside the gods were the ancestors, the seers, and the immortals. There were also those beyond caste or stage of life; at that time, all the gods in the sky, regardless of their distinctions, became equal in steadfastness as the great dissolution drew near. The gods who dwelt in the three worlds, each identified with their own form, remained until the end of the cycle. But when dissolution arrived, they were shaken. Disturbed, they turned their minds toward the world of Maharloka, seeking refuge as the great cosmic night descended once more.