The blessed Lord spoke, his voice resonant with kindness: “Ask for a boon, O Lord who has descended from the lotus. Become my son, O destroyer of enemies, and you shall know profound joy.” Again, he addressed him with affection: “Speak auspicious words, O Lord, you who have emerged from the lotus. You are our great yogi, worthy of praise, the very essence of the sacred Pranava, Om.” He continued, “From this day forward, O Lord of all, adorned with your white turban, you will be renowned by the name Padmayoni—the Lotus-born. Become my son, O Brahman, Lord of the seven worlds.” Thus, having granted this boon to the one crowned with glory, the blessed Lord bestowed his grace. With a heart pleased and free from envy, the Lord replied, “So be it.” As he spoke, he beheld a wondrous being approaching—a figure whose face radiated like the rising sun, filled with majesty and splendor. Nārāyaṇa gazed upon this most astonishing form and described what he saw: “Immeasurable in size, with a vast mouth and fangs, his hair had vanished from his head. Ten arms he bore, marked with the trident, his eyes gazing in all directions. The Lord of the worlds himself had appeared, his form deformed, girded with a belt of munja grass, roaring terribly, with a great, erect phallus. Who is this being, O Viṣṇu, this mass of brilliance and immense splendor?” This being, having pervaded all directions and the sky itself, advanced toward them. Thus addressed, the blessed Viṣṇu spoke to Brahmā: “By his stride, as he steps upon the ocean, the waters are lifted up into the vast sky with tremendous force. From the coarse elements, you, O Lotus-born, are sprinkled in all directions; together with you, the wind arising from the sense of smell causes trembling. The great lotus, sprung from my navel, is shaken. The Lord Bhava has arrived—he who is without beginning and the master who brings about the end.” Bhava and I, with hymns of praise, approached the Lord who bears the bull-banner. Then, Brahmā, angered, spoke to Keśava, whose eyes resemble lotuses: “You surely do not know yourself, O 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?” Upon hearing these words, born of anger, Hari replied: “Do not speak thus, O auspicious one. Do not disparage the great soul. The great lord of yoga, Dharma himself, is difficult to overcome and grants 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 with toys; 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 truly is—that Śiva—is seen only by ascetics afflicted with suffering. He is the seed, you are the seed-bearer, and I am the eternal womb.” Thus addressed, the soul of the universe, Brahmā, questioned Viṣṇu: “You are the womb, I am the seed; how then is Maheśvara the seed-bearer? This subtle, unmanifest doubt of mine—please resolve it for me.” 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, is for those devoted to the inner self. Thus, the self is established, divided in two ways: Maheśvara is both the unmanifest without parts, and the manifest with parts. For him, who knows the workings of māyā and whose nature is deep and inaccessible, the first seed of the linga, similar to you, arose in the beginning. That seed, united with my womb, in time produced the golden egg within the waters.” “For ten hundred years, the egg rested upon the waters. At the end of a thousand years, it was split by the wind. One shell became the sky, another became the earth, and its thick, lofty membrane is that golden mountain. Then, from that conjunction, the supreme Lord of gods, the blessed Hiraṇyagarbha, was born—he who has four faces.” “Seeing the world empty, up to the stars, planets, moon, and sun, and meditating, ‘Who am I?’—then, O Kumāras, I came into being. The ascetics, delightful to behold, who were your elder brothers among the sages, at the end of another thousand years, became your sons from that very source. Radiant as fire among the worlds, with eyes long as lotus petals, the illustrious Sanatkumāra and Ṛbhu, both of pure celibacy, as well as Sanaka, Sanātana, and Sanandana—all these were born at the same time, possessing insight beyond the senses.” “They were born as embodiments of intuitive wisdom, causes of the world’s stability, free from the threefold afflictions and not engaged in actions. Life and death, and repeated birth, are joined with little happiness and much suffering, old age, and sorrow. Even happiness in heaven is slight, and there is suffering in hell as well. Knowing all this doctrine, one must accept the certainty of fate.” “Seeing Ṛbhu and Sanatkumāra under your control, your three sons—Sanaka and the others—abandoned the three qualities. They, of great energy, set forth on the path of knowledge. Thus, when Sanaka and the others proceeded along those three paths, you will become deluded by the māyā of Śaṅkara. When the cycle turns, O sinless one, your awareness will be lost. At the end of the cycle, the remaining beings, both subtle and earthly, are said to awaken through the divine māyā of all.” Thus, the mysteries of creation, the origins of the gods, and the supreme nature of Śiva were revealed with reverence and clarity.