In the beginning, all beings, radiant with purity, attained perfection through the power of their minds. Among them were brahmins, kshatriyas, vaishyas, and people of many different births and backgrounds. Yet, a certain restlessness arose within them, and their thoughts turned toward the higher realm of Janaloka. Ages upon ages passed—thousands of divine years flowed by, one after another. In time, those who were destined to dwell for the full cycle of existence ascended together and reached the world of Janaloka. From there, they journeyed on to Brahmaloka, the supreme realm from which there is no return. In that highest abode, they became equal to Brahma himself, both in form and in experience. Immersed in the bliss of Brahma, they attained liberation alongside him. Still, their existence was shaped by the measures of time and the worship appropriate to that era; they were influenced by the conditions prevailing then. When thus influenced, they performed acts of service, and from this, joy naturally arose. Their actions and the tools they employed grew and multiplied along with them. When their period of authority ended, they remained steadfast in their own duties, each established in their essential nature. Equipped with their innate faculties, they abided solely in the self. Because of the great diversity among beings, their various activities became visible. For those who were liberated and possessed true knowledge, the nature of existence was understood as a unity. Then, as peace descended, non-existence arose again, much like the flames of a fire that has been extinguished. With the coming of this dissolution, the realm of Maharloka was attained by these beings. Gandharvas, Piśācas, humans, brahmins, and all others—while they still dwelled among the inhabitants of the earth—were transformed at that time. Each became one of the seven rays, and each ray became a sun. Under the glare of these seven suns, all living and non-living things—rivers, mountains, all that moves and all that stands still—became helpless, scorched by the relentless rays. Their bodies were consumed by the fire, but in that burning, their sins were cleansed as the age drew to its close. Thus purified, they were born again among those of similar form. With the dawn of the new creation, the mind-born sons of Brahmā came into being. But when the seven suns blazed forth and burned the worlds, the waters of the oceans, the clouds, and all terrestrial waters—every drop that moved or remained—were affected. The radiance of this burning was so great that the sound 'bhā' was used to describe its pervasiveness and brilliance, for it spread throughout the whole earth in every direction. The word 'śara' too, it is said, takes on many meanings when broken down, signifying the various aspects of this spreading and dissolution. At the end of a thousand yugas, when Brahmā's day draws to a close, all fire disappears from the surface of the earth, and everything returns to the waters. In this vast, single ocean, when all that is movable and immovable is dissolved, the sages recite a sacred verse about Nārāyaṇa. In that time, as all things are enveloped and filled with water, he is known as Nārāyaṇa—the thousand-armed, the first progenitor, the Person formed of the three Vedas. He is described as the golden-embryo, the great-souled one who arises beyond the reach of the mind. At the end of the kalpa, as darkness grows and the cycle concludes, Time itself, having become supreme, devours all once more, drawing everything back into itself.