In the beginning, the supreme person, the source of all beings, manifested—Nārāyaṇa, the all-pervading Lord, emerging from his mouth with eight mighty arms and a vast, powerful chest. Assuming the posture of yoga, he, the master of all yogis and possessor of inconceivable power, shone with unmatched brilliance. His form was adorned by a thousand serpent hoods, and he spread the coils of the great serpent as a noble couch, reclining upon this vast, lofty bed in the midst of the great ocean. Viṣṇu, the mighty Lord, rested there, delighting in his own self, playfully enacting his divine pastimes, his actions untouched by any effort. From his navel arose a radiant lotus, a hundred yojanas wide, glowing like the rising sun, with a great stalk and immense height. As the praised god sported thus, near him appeared Brahmā, the golden-embryo, lotus-born and golden-hued, a being beyond the senses. The four-faced one, with wide, auspicious eyes, arrived, adorned with divine splendor and fragrant beauty. Seeing Brahmā, who played with a lotus, Viṣṇu approached him with wonder and addressed him in gentle, pleasing words. He asked, “Who are you, O one who has taken refuge in the midst of the waters?” Hearing these auspicious words, Acyuta replied, rising from his couch, his eyes wide with astonishment: “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, blessed Viṣṇu again inquired, “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 Brahmā replied, yet he was deluded by the māyā of Śambhu and did not recognize Janārdana. Deluded by this māyā, Brahmā did not recognize the great soul, and said, “Just as you are, so am I—the original creator, the lord of creatures.” Hearing Brahmā’s words, Vaikuṇṭha, the source of the universe, gave his consent, full of wonder. Out of curiosity, the great yogi entered Brahmā’s mouth, along with the eighteen islands, their oceans, and mountains. Entering with great brilliance, he beheld 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 repeatedly exclaimed, “Ah, the power of his austerity!” Having wandered through various worlds and diverse abodes for a thousand years, Viṣṇu did not find the end. Then, 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 spoken thus, Hari again addressed the Grandfather: “O blessed one, just so is my belly—eternal. Enter, O best of gods, and see these incomparable worlds.” Hearing these delightful words, Brahmā rejoiced. Then, the Lord of Creation, unwavering in resolve, entered the belly of the glorious Lord once again, and saw those very worlds existing within the womb. Having wandered 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 and, wishing to act, thought, “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 with one another, a great conflict arose in the midst of that ocean. From somewhere, the immeasurable Lord, master of beings, wielder of the trident, the great god adorned in golden heroic garments, appeared. There went Ananta, the lord of the serpent-hoods, Hari, and as he swiftly advanced, the ground was pressed and afflicted by his feet. Suddenly, thick drops of water arose swiftly in the sky; the wind blew both exceedingly hot and extremely cold. Seeing this great wonder, Brahmā spoke to Viṣṇu: “These drops, both cold and hot, are greatly shaking the lotus. Tell me this doubt of mine, or what else do you intend to do?” Thus spoke the Lord of Creation. Hearing this, the Lord, destroyer of the asuras and performer of incomparable deeds, thought, “Is there perhaps some other being dwelling in my navel?” As he spoke affectionately, I grew angry with him; reflecting thus in my mind, I replied, “Why, O Lord, is there such confusion today in the lotus? What have I done, O god, that you speak to me with such supreme affection?” “O best of men, for what reason do you speak thus? Tell me truly.” Thus, as the Lord of the gods, who upholds the course of the worlds, spoke, Brahmā, the repository of the Vedas, replied to lotus-eyed Viṣṇu: “It was by your will that I, who had previously entered your belly, did so.