O King of the earth, you are addressed as the very source of creation, preservation, and dissolution. O precious child, O Hari, O Viṣṇu, may you protect all that exists, both moving and unmoving. Know, O Viṣṇu, that I am manifest as Brahmā, Viṣṇu, and Bhava, divided by the qualities of creation, preservation, and dissolution. Yet, in truth, I am the supreme Lord, indivisible and beyond all divisions. Therefore, O Viṣṇu, cast aside delusion and protect this Grandfather, Brahmā. In the coming Padma Kalpa, he shall be your son, and you shall become his Grandfather. In that era, you and the lotus-born one will perceive me in this very way. Having spoken these words, the Blessed Lord vanished from sight. From that moment, the worship of the liṅga became firmly established in all the worlds. The altar of the liṅga is the great goddess herself, and the liṅga is the manifest form of the great Lord. Because all things dissolve into it, it is called ‘liṅga,’ and within it reside all the gods. Whoever recites the story of the liṅga daily in its presence—such a brāhmaṇa attains the state of Śiva, and there is no need for further doubt or deliberation. Now, listen to the tale of the Padma Kalpa, of how, in ancient times, Brahmā the lotus-born arose, and how the supreme person beheld Bhava through him. In the beginning, there was only a single, terrible ocean, undivided and shrouded in darkness. In the midst of this vast expanse, Hari, the consort of Śrī, resided—bearing conch, discus, and mace, crowned, cloud-hued, and lotus-eyed. This supreme person, the source of all beings, was Nārāyaṇa, all-pervading, with eight arms and a mighty chest, radiant as he emerged from his own mouth. Master of yoga, endowed with inconceivable power, he shone with a brilliance unmatched, adorned by a thousand serpent hoods. He spread the coils of the great serpent as a noble couch, and upon this vast, lofty bed in the great ocean, the Lord reclined. Thus did Viṣṇu, the mighty Lord, rest there, delighting in his own being, playfully acting, his deeds untouched by effort. From his navel arose a magnificent lotus, a hundred yojanas wide, radiant like the rising sun, with a great stalk reaching immense heights. As the praised Lord sported thus, near him appeared Brahmā—the golden-embryo, lotus-born, golden-hued, and beyond the senses. The four-faced one, with wide and auspicious eyes, arrived, adorned in divine, splendid, and fragrant beauty. Seeing Brahmā, who played with a lotus, Viṣṇu approached him in wonder and addressed him with gentle, pleasing words. He asked, “Who are you, O one who has taken refuge amidst the waters?” Brahmā, hearing these auspicious words, listened as Acyuta replied. Rising from his serpent couch, eyes wide with astonishment, Viṣṇu declared, “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, Viṣṇu inquired further, “But who exactly are you, O venerable one, who has come near? From where have you come? Where will you go? What is your refuge? Who are you, truly the form of the universe? And what should I do for you?” To Vaikuṇṭha, who thus questioned him, the Grandfather replied—yet, deluded by the māyā of Śambhu, he did not recognize Janārdana. Confused by illusion, Brahmā said, “Just as you are, so am I—the original creator, the lord of creatures.” Hearing these words from Brahmā, the ruler of the worlds, Vaikuṇṭha, source of the universe, marveled and gave his consent. Out of curiosity, the great yogi Viṣṇu entered Brahmā’s mouth, taking with him the eighteen islands, their oceans and mountains. Entering with great brilliance, he beheld the worlds within Brahmā’s belly—filled with the four varṇas, extending up to the end of Brahmā’s stalk, the seven eternal worlds. Within Brahmā’s belly, Viṣṇu, mighty-armed, saw all things and exclaimed again and again, “Ah, the power of his austerity!” Wandering through various worlds and abodes for a thousand years, Viṣṇu could not find the end. At last, emerging from Brahmā’s mouth, Nārāyaṇa, the sustainer of the world whose abode is the king of serpents, spoke to the Grandfather: “O venerable one, you are the origin, the seat, the middle, time, directions, and space. I do not see the end of your belly, O sinless one.” Having said this, Hari addressed the Grandfather again: “O blessed one, just so is my belly—eternal. Enter, O best of gods, and behold these incomparable worlds.” Hearing these delightful words, Brahmā rejoiced. Then, the Lord of Creation, steadfast in resolve, entered the belly of the glorious Lord once more and saw those very worlds existing within the womb. Wandering throughout the Lord’s body, he could not perceive the end of Hari. Realizing the course of the Lord of Creation, Viṣṇu closed all the doors, thinking, “I will rest comfortably.” Seeing all the doors shut, Brahmā made his form subtle and found a door through the navel. Following the thread of the lotus, the Lord of Creation observed, and from the lotus, the four-faced one emerged, manifesting his own form. Seated upon the lotus, shining with the radiance of the lotus-womb, Brahmā, the self-born, the blessed, the source of the universe, the Lord of Creation, appeared resplendent. Meanwhile, as each of the two contended fully with one another, a great conflict arose in the midst of that ocean.