Brahmā, the creator, found himself in dire distress. Before him lay Lord Hari—Nārāyaṇa, the supreme Lord of the universe—immersed in deep yogic sleep, unmoving and serene. Desperate to rouse him, Brahmā began to praise Hari with auspicious words, hoping to awaken the great protector. “O Hari,” he implored, “Lord of the distressed, Viṣṇu, Vāmana, rise up, Mādhava! You, remover of your devotees’ suffering, Hṛṣīkeśa, abode of all, ruler of the world—awaken! You are the inner ruler, immeasurable self, Vāsudeva, Lord of the world, destroyer of the wicked, single-minded one, wielder of the discus and the mace! All-knowing Lord of all worlds, endowed with every power—arise, arise, O Lord of the gods, destroyer of sorrow, protect me! Supporter of the universe, wide-eyed one, whose fame and praise are holy to hear, source of the world, formless one, cause of creation, preservation, and destruction!” Brahmā’s voice trembled as he continued, “These two great demons, O King, eager to kill and maddened by pride—do you not see, O support of all, the distress that has befallen me? If you neglect me, overwhelmed by great sorrow and seeking your refuge, O great Viṣṇu, then your role as protector will be without foundation.” Despite Brahmā’s fervent prayers, Hari did not awaken. The Lord remained lost in yogic sleep, untouched by Brahmā’s words. Seeing this, Brahmā’s mind churned with worry and confusion. “Surely,” he thought, “Viṣṇu has been overpowered by some force, fallen under the sway of sleep, and does not awaken, though he is righteous. What shall I do now, so afflicted? Both these demons, intoxicated with pride and eager to kill, have come. What shall I do, where shall I go? I have no refuge anywhere.” In his desperation, Brahmā turned his focus inward, seeking clarity. He realized that only the power that had subdued even Viṣṇu could offer protection now. Fixing his mind in single-pointed concentration, Brahmā began to praise Yoga-Nidrā, the divine force of sleep. He reflected, “This power alone is capable of protection, by whom even the insentient Viṣṇu has been rendered motionless. Just as one without life does not perceive qualities such as sound, so too does Hari, his eyes closed in sleep, perceive nothing. Though praised in many ways, he does not abandon sleep; I think sleep is not under his control—rather, he is subdued by sleep. Whoever falls under the power of another surely becomes that other’s servant; therefore, this Yoga-Nidrā is the mistress of Lord Hari. By whom even the lord of Lakṣmī, born of the ocean, is subdued—surely this entire world is brought under control by the Divine Lady. I, Viṣṇu, Śambhu, Sāvitrī, also Lakṣmī and Umā—all of us are under her power; there is no doubt about this. Even Hari lies powerless, just like any ordinary person; when he is overcome by her, what need is there to speak of other great souls?” Resolute, Brahmā declared, “Today I praise Yoga-Nidrā, by whom Janārdana is released and the eternal Vāsudeva will accomplish battle.” Thus, seated upon the lotus stalk, Brahmā began to praise Yoga-Nidrā, who dwelled upon the limbs of Viṣṇu. Brahmā addressed her with reverence: “O Goddess, you are indeed the cause of this universe—this I have learned from all the words of the Vedas, O Mother. Even Viṣṇu, the creator of discernment in all worlds, today has been rendered subject to sleep, O Supreme Person. Who knows, O Mother, your play of delusion and wonder? I am bewildered, and even this Hari lies powerless. When you, who dwell in the minds of all beings, are thus, even the wisest among countless gods cannot comprehend you, O qualityless One.” He pondered further, “The Sāṃkhyas speak of Puruṣa and of you as Prakṛti, devoid of consciousness, yet the doer of the world. How is it that you, being such, have established the abode of the world, bereft of consciousness, today? You enact the drama of the world, endowed with qualities, in manifold ways; no one knows the method of your actions. The groups of sages constantly meditate on you, imagining you as Sandhyā, O Bhavānī, with your qualities.” Brahmā continued, “You are always the intellect, the faculty of knowledge for all beings; you are ever the fortune that brings happiness to the gods, O Goddess. Likewise, you are fame, wisdom, steadfastness, beauty, faith, and love in all people, O Mother. Beyond this, no proof has been attained by me, though I have passed through suffering and pondered with hundreds of arguments. Truly, you are the mother of all worlds, and it is seen here that Hari has been made to sleep by you.” He admitted, “O Goddess, you are difficult to comprehend even for those learned in the Vedas; indeed, the Veda itself does not know you in your entirety. For the Veda itself arises from you, and all your deeds are directly manifest. Who among the wise on earth knows your entire conduct? Neither I, nor Hari, nor Bhava, nor the other gods. Nor are the sages or my own sons able to know; your greatness is truly unspeakable in all the worlds.” Brahmā recognized her supreme importance: “O Goddess, even when the learned recite the Vedas and perform sacrifices, if they do not invoke you with ‘Svaha,’ the gods do not receive their share in the offerings; you alone, even among the gods, are the giver of sustenance. O Blessed One, you were our first protector from the fear of the enemies of the gods, and now again you are the same; seeing the terrible Madhu and Kaitabha, I am afraid, O Goddess, granter of boons, and I have taken refuge in you.” He confessed his helplessness: “Now, even Vishnu does not know my suffering, for his body has been rendered powerless by you; whether you release the supreme god or slay these two lords of the demons, do as you wish, O greatly powerful one.” Brahmā acknowledged the folly of those who do not recognize her: “Those who do not know your supreme power, O Goddess, and who meditate only on Hari or Hara, are of dull mind; today, O Mother, I have clearly understood, for even Vishnu lies here utterly helpless. Even Lakshmi, born from the ocean, is unable today, by your power, to awaken her husband Hari, for she too is under your sway; I think, O Blessed One, that you have forcibly put even Rama to sleep, so that she, rendered powerless, does not awaken.” He praised those devoted to her: “Blessed indeed are those on earth who are devoted to your feet, who have abandoned the worship of other gods and are absorbed in you; knowing you as the universal mother and the wish-fulfilling cow, they worship you with all their heart. Where now are those virtues, good conduct, and auspicious qualities that bring fame, which belonged to Vishnu? All have departed; for here, even Hari has been subdued by your power, O exceedingly glorious Goddess, and bound by sleep.” Brahmā marveled at her play: “You alone are the power of the universe, the source of all might; all that exists is but a manifestation created by you; you play within the net of illusion you have woven, just as an actor delights in a drama of his own making. At the beginning of the age, Vishnu was revealed by you, and you gave him pure power for the work of preservation; now, having rendered him helpless, you have protected everything; O Mother, you surely do as you wish.” He pleaded, “O Blessed One, since you have created me here, you must not wish to destroy me; show mercy and set aside your silence. Why have these two, forms of Time, been manifested? Or, O Bhavani, do you wish to laugh at me? I have understood your wondrous actions; having created this entire world, you delight in your freedom. In the same way, you can dissolve everything, or destroy me—O Bhavani, what is strange in that? Do as you wish, slay me today, O Mother; O Mother of the world, I do not grieve for death. It is you who first made the creator, and now this one is slain by the demon; thus, the greatest disgrace is his.” With these heartfelt praises and pleas, Brahmā surrendered himself utterly to the Divine Mother, Yoga-Nidrā, recognizing her as the supreme power underlying all creation, preservation, and dissolution.