In the beginning, he became the embryo of gold, emerging from the golden essence itself. Thus, in this Purāṇa, he is honored as Hiraṇyagarbha—the Golden Womb. The time of the Self-born, the soul of the universe, is beyond measure; even hundreds of years cannot grasp its span. Brahmā’s supreme period is called a parārdha, a measure so vast that time itself ceases in its reckoning. After this, another period follows, which dissolves entirely at its end. Countless billions of days have passed in previous kalpas, and an equal number await in the future. Now, listen to the account of the present kalpa, named Vārāha. O twice-born, among all the kalpas, this present one is the first, in which the fourteen Manus, beginning with Svāyambhuva, have appeared. In the past, present, and future, these Manus govern the entire earth, with its seven continents and mountains. For a full thousand yugas, these great lords protect the earth and its people through their austerities. Let us now hear the details of their reigns. With each Manvantara, all the intermediate periods are described, just as with each kalpa. The past kalpas, their secondary creations and lineages, and those yet to come—one who knows should understand them in this way. At first, only water existed, for the earth had vanished. In that calm, boundless expanse of water, nothing at all could be perceived. Then, in this single ocean, when all that was fixed and moving had disappeared, Brahmā arose—he of a thousand eyes and a thousand feet. The Person with a thousand heads, golden in color and beyond the senses, known as Brahmā and also as Nārāyaṇa, slept upon the waters. When he awakened through the predominance of sattva, he beheld the empty world. At this point, a verse is recited about Nārāyaṇa: the waters are called ‘nārās,’ and he is their son; having filled them, he made them his resting place. Because he lies upon the waters, he is called Nārāyaṇa. He remains in night for a thousand fourfold yugas. At the end of this night, he assumes the role of Brahmā for the purpose of creation; and as Brahmā, he acts within the waters, becoming the wind. Then, just as a firefly shines in the night during the rainy season, he perceived the earth submerged within the waters. Undeluded, by inference, he raised up the earth once more, just as he had done in previous cycles, assuming a subtle form. Seeing the earth immersed in water all around, the great-souled Lord conceived a divine form. He thought, “By assuming what form might I lift this earth? Entering the form of a boar, suitable for playing in water, I shall do so.” Unassailable by all beings, composed of speech and known as Brahman, he entered the netherworld to raise the earth. The Lord of creatures swiftly approached the earth, covered by the waters, seized her, and entered the waters as well. The rivers were within the oceans, and their gifts within the rivers; the earth had sunk to the bottom of the netherworld, entering its deepest recess. For the welfare of the worlds, the Lord raised the earth with his tusk, bringing her to her proper place and restoring her. Having supported the earth, the bearer of the earth released her as before; upon her, a great mass of water stood, like a vast ship. Because she was supported by his own body, the earth did not sink. Lifting her up, the god, desiring to establish the world, did so. For the division of the earth, the lotus-eyed one conceived in his mind, and making the earth level, he placed the mountains upon her. At the beginning of creation, when everything was being burned by the fire of dissolution, those vast mountains were shattered by that fire. By cold, in that single ocean, they were compressed by the wind; wherever they were deposited, there they became immovable mountains. Because they do not move, they are called ‘mountains’ (acala); and because they are heaped up, they are known as ‘heaps of rocks’ (śiloccaya). When those mountains were scattered in millions, Viśvakarman divided them again and again at the beginning of each cycle. He then arranged the earth with its oceans, seven continents, mountains, and the four worlds beginning with Bhū, once more. Having thus established the worlds, the self-born Lord Brahmā, desiring to create, produced the various beings. He created creation in the same manner as in previous cycles; as he contemplated creation, so it came to be, with deliberate thought. And at the same time as intellect, there arose that which is composed of darkness: ignorance, great delusion, and what is called tamas and andhas. This ignorance, with five aspects, arose from the Great Soul; the creation that abides in fivefold form belongs to the one who meditates with self-conceit. Enveloped by darkness, covered like a seed by its sprout, without light within or without, it is inert and devoid of awareness. Because their intellect is veiled and their instruments are sources of suffering, these beings with veiled selves are called the primary trees. Seeing that the primary creation was thus ineffective, Brahmā, with a mind dissatisfied, conceived another creation. As he contemplated, a crosswise stream arose; from that, the crosswise-moving beings came forth, and thus they are known as the crosswise stream.