As the tale unfolds, Brahmā speaks to Viṣṇu with wonder, recalling a profound vision: “Just as you, O Lord, once beheld all the worlds contained within my belly, so too did I see every world within yours, complete in every way.” Time passed—an entire thousand years—until, out of playful rivalry and a desire to assert your mastery, you, Viṣṇu, drew me back into yourself. Suddenly, all the doors closed swiftly on every side. Yet, O greatly fortunate one, I gathered my power and considered how to act. Searching, I found a passage through your navel, emerging along the stalk of the great lotus—ensuring that not even the slightest obstacle could hinder your divine purpose. Therefore, O Viṣṇu, this is the path to be followed for the tasks before us. Now, please instruct me—what should I do next? At that time, the mighty and immeasurable-souled Hiraṇyakaśipu, enemy of the gods, received from the Grandfather Brahmā a flawless, beloved, and auspicious boon. Hearing this, Hari (Viṣṇu), free from envy, granted him the boon, for I had not resolved to perform such a deed for you. My intention, O auspicious one, was to instruct you, and by chance, in a spirit of play, I closed all the doors of my own being. Do not misunderstand, O honored and worshipful one. Please forgive whatever I have done against you, for you are worthy of all reverence. As you honor me, O radiant Lord, please descend from the lotus; I am unable to bear your presence any longer. Then I spoke: “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, for you are our great yogi, worthy of all praise, the very essence of the Pranava, Om.” From this day forward, O Lord of all, adorned with a white turban, you will be known as Padmayoni, the Lotus-born. Become my son, O Brahman, Lord of the seven worlds.” Thus, having granted this boon to the crowned one, the blessed Lord awaited my response. With a heart free from envy, I replied, “So be it.” Then, as I looked on, someone approached with a face radiant like the rising sun and a most magnificent form. Beholding this wondrous being, Nārāyaṇa spoke: “He is immeasurable, with a vast mouth, fangs, and hair scorched from his head. Ten-armed, marked with the trident, standing with eyes on every side, he is the Lord of the worlds, manifest, deformed, and girded with a belt of munja grass. Roaring terribly, with a great erect phallus—who is this, O Viṣṇu, this mass of brilliance and splendor?” This being spread across all directions and the sky, advancing with great force. To this, the blessed Viṣṇu said to me: “By his stride, as he steps upon the ocean, the waters are lifted high into the sky. From the coarse elements, you, O Lotus-born, are sprinkled in all directions, and with you, the wind arising from the sense of smell causes trembling. The great lotus, sprung freely from my navel, is shaken. Bhava, the Lord who is both without beginning and the master who brings about the end, has arrived.” Bhava (Śiva) and I, with hymns, approached the bearer of the bull-banner. Then, angered, I 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, Hari replied: “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, the seed of all seeds, the single light that shines forth. Śaṅkara himself plays as a child, yet he is the imperishable chief principle, the womb, the unmanifest, and the darkness of nature. These names of mine are always productive, but who he is—that Śiva—is seen only by ascetics suffering in their austerities.” “He is the seed, you are the seed-bearer, and I am the eternal womb.” Thus addressed, I, the soul of the universe, questioned Viṣṇu: “You are the womb, and I am the seed. How, then, is Maheśvara the seed-bearer? This subtle, unmanifest doubt of mine, you ought to resolve.” Understanding the various origins of Brahmā, the ruler of the worlds, Hari answered this supreme question: “There is nothing greater or more secret than this being—the supreme abode of the great, the seat of Śiva for those devoted to the inner self. The Self is established, divided in two ways: there, Maheśvara is both the unmanifest without parts and the manifest with parts. For him, who knows the workings of māyā and whose nature is inaccessible and profound, the first seed of the linga, similar to you, arose in the beginning. That seed, united with my womb, in the course of time, produced the golden egg within the womb.” “For ten hundred years, the egg rested in the cosmic waters. At the end of a thousand years, it was split by the wind. One shell became the sky, the other became the earth; its thick membrane, of great height, is that golden mountain. Then, from that conjunction, the supreme Lord of the gods, the blessed Hiraṇyagarbha—he who has four faces—was born.” “Seeing the world empty, up to the stars, planets, moon, and sun, and meditating, ‘Who am I?’—then, O Kumāras, I came into being.