Then Mahādeva, the great Lord, spoke with kindness: “I am pleased, O best of the gods. Behold me, Mahādeva; let all fear be dispelled.” He revealed to them, “You two, of immense strength, were born from my own body. At my right side stands Brahmā, the grandfather of the worlds. And at my left is Viṣṇu, the soul of the universe, born from my heart. I am well pleased with you both; I grant you the boon you desire.” Having spoken thus, the Supreme Lord, full of compassion, gently touched Viṣṇu with his auspicious hands. Joyful at heart, Nārāyaṇa bowed reverently to Maheśvara and addressed the Lord, who is both within and beyond the liṅga: “If you are truly pleased and a boon is to be granted to us, may we always have unwavering devotion to you.” The god, adorned with the cool-rayed moon, granted to both Brahmā and Viṣṇu unwavering faith in himself. Then, with self-control and humility, Nārāyaṇa knelt to the ground, bowing to the Lord of the universe, and spoke softly: “O Lord of gods, Lord of lords, you have come here because of the excellent dispute between us, to bring an end to our quarrel.” Hearing these words, Hara again addressed Hari, who stood with bowed head, palms joined in reverence, and a gentle smile: “O King of the earth, you are the creator of dissolution, maintenance, and creation. O child, O child, O Hari, O Viṣṇu, protect all this, the moving and the unmoving. O Viṣṇu, I am indeed divided threefold as Brahmā, Viṣṇu, and Bhava, by the qualities of creation, preservation, and dissolution, yet I remain the supreme Lord, indivisible. Abandon delusion, O Viṣṇu, and protect this Grandfather Brahmā. In the Padma Kalpa, he will be your son, and you will be his Grandfather. Then you will see me in this way, and so too will the lotus-born one see me.” Having spoken thus, the Blessed Lord vanished there itself. From that time onward, the worship of the liṅga became firmly established in the worlds; the liṅga altar is the great goddess, and the liṅga itself is the great Lord manifest. Because of dissolution, it is called liṅga; there, all the gods reside. Whoever recites the liṅga narrative daily in the presence of the liṅga—such a brāhmaṇa attains the state of Śiva; there is no need for further deliberation. Now, let us recount how, in the Padma Kalpa of old, Brahmā, the lotus-born, arose, and how the supreme person saw Bhava through him. In that ancient time, there was only a single, terrible ocean, undivided and filled with darkness. In the midst of this vast ocean, Hari, the consort of Śrī, bearing conch, discus, and mace, with a crown, cloud-hued and lotus-eyed, was present. The supreme person, the source of all beings, with eight arms and a mighty chest, was Nārāyaṇa, the all-pervading one, emanating from his mouth. Assuming yoga, the master of yoga, possessing inconceivable power, he shone with unmatched brilliance, adorned by a thousand serpent hoods. Spreading the great serpent’s coils as a noble couch, the Lord lay upon that vast, lofty bed in the great ocean. Thus, Viṣṇu, the mighty Lord, resting there, delighting in his own self, performed playfully, his actions untouched by effort. From his navel arose a lotus, a hundred yojanas wide, radiant like the rising sun, with a great stalk, and of immense height. As that god, the praised one, sported thus, near him appeared Brahmā, the golden-embryo, lotus-born, golden-hued, and beyond the senses. The four-faced one, with wide eyes, arrived, adorned with divine, splendid, and fragrant beauty. Seeing Brahmā, whose gaze is auspicious, playing with a lotus, Viṣṇu approached him with wonder and addressed him with gentle and pleasing words: “Who are you, O one who has taken refuge in the midst of the waters?” Hearing these auspicious words, Brahmā replied. Viṣṇu rose from his couch, his eyes wide with astonishment, and said, “In every cycle, I am the refuge. Whatever is to be done, whatever has been done, and whatever is being done—heaven, the midspace, and earth—I am the supreme abode beyond the world.” Having spoken thus, the blessed Viṣṇu again asked, “Who exactly are you, O venerable one, who has come near? From where have you come? Where will you go again? What is your refuge? Who are you, truly the form of the universe? And what should I do for you?” To Vaikuṇṭha, who spoke thus, the Grandfather replied, deluded by the māyā of Śambhu, not recognizing Janārdana. Under the spell of māyā, Brahmā did not recognize the great soul: “Just as you are, so am I—the original creator, the lord of creatures.” Hearing the words of Brahmā, the ruler of the worlds, with wonder, Vaikuṇṭha, the source of the universe, gave his consent. Out of curiosity, the great yogi entered Brahmā’s mouth, along with these eighteen islands, with their oceans and mountains. Entering, full of great brilliance, the worlds filled with the four varṇas, up to the end of Brahmā’s stalk, the seven eternal worlds. Within Brahmā’s belly, Viṣṇu, mighty-armed, saw all things, and again and again exclaimed, “Ah, the power of his austerity!” Having wandered through various worlds and diverse abodes, Viṣṇu, after a thousand years, did not find the end.