From an unknown place, the immeasurable Lord, master of all beings and wielder of the trident, the great god Mahādeva himself, appeared, resplendent in golden garments befitting a hero. At that moment, Ananta, the lord of serpents, moved swiftly, accompanied by Hari. As Ananta advanced, the very ground trembled and seemed afflicted beneath his mighty feet. Suddenly, thick drops of water began to surge rapidly into the sky. The wind blew with strange violence, sometimes unbearably hot, sometimes chillingly cold, creating a bewildering atmosphere. Witnessing this marvel, Brahmā turned to Viṣṇu and said, “These drops, both hot and cold, are greatly shaking the lotus. Tell me, what is the cause of this? Or is there something else you intend to do?” Thus spoke the Lord of Creation, voicing his doubts. Hearing Brahmā’s words, Viṣṇu, the destroyer of asuras, pondered to himself, “Could there be another being dwelling within my navel?” As he spoke gently and with affection, I—Brahmā—felt anger rise within me. After reflecting in my mind, I replied, “Why, O Lord, is there such confusion today in the lotus? What have I done, O god, that you address me with such supreme affection?” “O best of men, for what reason do you speak thus? Tell me truly,” Viṣṇu responded, upholding the order of the worlds. Then I, Brahmā, repository of the Vedas, answered the lotus-eyed Viṣṇu: “It was by your will that I, who had previously entered your belly, did so. Just as you, Lord, beheld all the worlds within my belly, so too did I see all the worlds within your belly, entirely. “After a thousand years had passed, O sinless one, you, desiring to subdue me out of rivalry, withdrew me. Swiftly, all the doors closed on every side; then, O greatly fortunate one, I considered with my own power. A passage was found through the navel region, emerging from the lotus stalk. Let there not be even the slightest hindrance to your purpose in any way. Thus, O Viṣṇu, this is the course of action for the tasks at hand. Now tell me, what should I do next?” At that time, the mighty enemy Hiraṇyakaśipu received from me, the Grandfather, a flawless, beloved, and auspicious boon. Having heard these words, Hari, free from envy, granted him the boon, for I had not resolved upon such a deed for you. Desiring to instruct you, and by chance, as a playful act, I quickly closed all the doors of my own being. Do not misunderstand; you are honored and worthy of my worship. Forgive whatever I have done against you, O auspicious one. As you honor me, O Lord, descend from the lotus; I am unable to bear you, my radiant and venerable one. Then I said, “Ask for a boon, O Lord, descend from the lotus; become my son, O destroyer of enemies, and you will obtain great joy. Speak words of goodwill, O Lord, descend from the lotus; you are indeed our great yogi, worthy of praise, the very essence of the Pranava (Om). From this day forward, O Lord of all, adorned with a white turban, you will be renowned by the name ‘Padmayoni’—the Lotus-born. Become my son, O Brahman, Lord of the seven worlds.” Having granted this boon to the crowned one, the blessed Lord— Saying, “So be it,” with a heart free of envy and full of joy, he beheld a wondrous being approaching, whose face shone like the rising sun. This being was of great countenance and most astonishing form. Nārāyaṇa spoke, “Immeasurable, with a great mouth and fangs, with hair burned away from the head—ten-armed, marked with a trident, standing with eyes on all sides, the Lord of the worlds himself, manifest, deformed, girded with a belt of munja grass—roaring most terribly, with a great erect phallus. Who indeed is this person, O Viṣṇu, a mass of brilliance and splendor?” This being, having pervaded all directions and the sky, now advanced from there. Thus addressed, the blessed Viṣṇu spoke to Brahmā: “By whose stride, as he steps upon the ocean with his feet, the waters are lifted up even into the vast sky with great force—from the coarse elements, you are abundantly sprinkled in all directions, O lotus-born; together with you, the wind arising from the sense of smell causes trembling. The great lotus, sprung freely from my navel, is shaken; Lord Bhava has arrived, the beginningless and the master who brings about the end.” Bhava and I, with hymns, approached the bearer of the bull-banner. Then, angered, Brahmā spoke to Keśava, whose eyes resemble lotuses. “You surely do not know yourself—the lord of the worlds, the all-pervading one; nor do you know me, Brahmā, the eternal creator of the worlds. Who is this named Śaṅkara, who surpasses both of us?” Hearing these words born of anger, Hari spoke: “Do not speak thus, O auspicious one; do not disparage the great soul. The great lord of yoga, Dharma, is difficult to overcome and bestows boons. He is the cause of this world, the ancient, imperishable person; indeed, he is the seed of all seeds, the single light that shines forth. Śaṅkara himself plays with toys as a child—the imperishable chief principle, the womb, the unmanifest, and the darkness of nature. These names of mine are always productive; who he is, that Śiva, is seen by ascetics afflicted with suffering. He is the seed, you are the seed-bearer, I am the eternal womb.” Thus addressed, the soul of the universe, Brahmā, questioned Viṣṇu further, as the mystery of the supreme Lord unfolded before them.