Brahmā, the four-faced creator, stood bewildered, searching for answers to the mysterious events unfolding before him. Suddenly, a compassionate voice reassured him, “You have committed no fault here; all of this arises from my māyā. Listen carefully, O four-faced one: before you stands the Lord of all the gods.” This voice continued, majestic and all-encompassing: “I alone am the creator, the leader, and the destroyer. There is none equal to me, O mighty one. I alone am the supreme Brahman, the highest reality, O Grandfather. I am the supreme light, the supreme soul, the all-pervading one. All that is seen or heard in this world, whether moving or unmoving, exists within me.” The voice explained further, “Know, O Brahmā, that all this is made of me. In the beginning, by my own power, I created the unmanifest and the group of twenty-four principles. The eternal atoms were bound together by me, and from them arose anger and other qualities. By your grace, many cosmic eggs are produced here in sport. I brought forth intellect, from which the threefold ego arose. From that ego came the five subtle elements, and from them, the mind and the six senses. The elements, starting with space and their gross forms, were all created by me in play.” As these truths were spoken between Brahmā and the Lord, a fierce and terrifying battle erupted between them. In the midst of the ocean of dissolution, both became entangled in passion and rivalry. Suddenly, before their astonished eyes, a radiant liṅga appeared, shining brilliantly to bring an end to their conflict and awaken understanding within them. This liṅga was adorned with thousands of fiery garlands, resembling hundreds of fires of dissolution. It was beyond growth and decay, without beginning, middle, or end. Incomparable, indescribable, unmanifest, and the very source of the universe, its thousandfold brilliance left even the blessed Hari (Vishnu) bewildered. Overcome with wonder, Hari turned to Brahmā and said, “Let us test this pillar of fire. I will go downward to seek the base of this matchless column, while you, with all your effort, should quickly go upward.” Having spoken thus, the Soul of the Universe assumed his own form. Brahmā swiftly transformed into a great swan, rising upwards, while Hari took the form of a boar and plunged downward. From that time, Brahmā became known as Hamsa, the Great Swan. It is said that whoever invokes him as ‘Hamsa, Hamsa’ shall attain a swan’s purity—white, fire-eyed, and winged on all sides. Brahmā, swift as the mind and wind, soared upward, while Nārāyaṇa, the Soul of the Universe, dark as a mass of collyrium, took on the form of a boar, ten yojanas wide and a hundred yojanas long, as lofty as Mount Meru, pale, with sharp, prominent fangs, radiant as the sun at the end of time, with a long snout, mighty voice, short legs, and wondrous limbs—firm, victorious, and incomparable. In this boar form, Vishnu hastened downward for a thousand years, yet found not even a glimpse of the liṅga’s base. Likewise, for a thousand years, Brahmā soared upward, but could not find its end. Exhausted and humbled, Brahmā descended, and Vishnu, weary and his eyes trembling with fatigue, quickly rose up, his great form manifest to all the gods. Vishnu joined Brahmā, bowing with a great mind, both bewildered by Shambhu’s (Shiva’s) māyā, their hearts disturbed. Together, they bowed before, beside, and behind the Supreme Lord, wondering, “What is this?” At that moment, a deep, resonant sound arose—“Om, Om”—clear and prolonged. Hearing this great sound, Brahmā wondered, “What is this?” Then, on the right side of the liṅga, he saw the eternal one. He beheld the first letter, ‘A,’ shining like the sun, on the right; ‘U,’ blazing like fire, on the left; and ‘M’ in the middle, glowing like the moon. Above these, the Lord appeared, pure as crystal, beyond the fourth state—immortal, without parts or disturbance, free from duality, absolute, void, and without inner or outer, yet abiding within both, without beginning, middle, or end, the very cause of bliss. There are three measures and a half-measure, called ‘nāda,’ known as Brahman. Madhava (Vishnu) is present in the form of the measures of the Ṛg, Yajur, and Sāma Vedas. From the words of the Vedas, the Lord contemplated the soul of the universe. Then the sage became the Veda, and from the sage arose the pure essence. By that sage, Vishnu understood the Supreme Lord, and Rudra, free from thought, contemplated Him with speech and mind. Those who do not attain Him turn back; He is to be expressed by the single syllable. By this single syllable, the truth, the supreme cause, is spoken. Truth, bliss, immortality, the supreme Brahman, higher than the highest, arise from the single syllable ‘a’—the Lord, born of the golden egg. From ‘u’ comes Hari, the supreme cause; from ‘ma’ arises Lord Nīlalohita (another form of Shiva). The creator is called ‘a’; ‘u’ is the deluder; ‘ma’ always bestows grace among them. ‘Ma’ is the seed-holder; ‘a’ is the seed; ‘u’ is Hari, the womb, the lord of Pradhāna and Puruṣa. The seed-holder and the seed, that womb, and the one called ‘nāda’ is Maheśvara (the Great Lord). The seed-holder, dividing himself by his own will, is established. Thus, Brahmā and Vishnu, in their quest to know the infinite, were humbled before the endless mystery of the Supreme, whose essence is the imperishable syllable Om, the source and substratum of all that exists.