Markandeya spoke: In the very beginning, as Brahmā set forth upon creation, his mind absorbed in truth, he brought forth a thousand pairs of beings from his own mouth, O sage. These first-born were radiant, suffused with abundant sattva, shining with their own innate brilliance. Next, Brahmā created another thousand pairs, this time from his chest. These were different: they were dominated by rajas, energetic and restless in nature. Continuing his work, Brahmā formed yet another thousand pairs from his thighs. These beings carried both rajas and tamas within them, and were known for their inclination toward desire. Finally, from his feet, Brahmā created a further thousand pairs, all pervaded by tamas, lacking prosperity and intelligence. As these beings became excited, living creatures began to arise in pairs—male and female—driven by mutual desire. Thus, from that time in this cycle, the origin of beings in pairs was established. In those early days, women did not experience a monthly period, and so, even though they united sexually, conception did not occur. Instead, at the end of their lifespan, each would give birth to offspring, and only once. From then on, in this cosmic cycle, creatures have arisen in pairs. These early offspring were not born through physical union, but by the power of meditation and the mind. Each was endowed with pure senses, characterized by the five attributes. Such was the first creation of humanity, O Prajāpati, and from these descendants the world became filled. These people roamed freely by rivers, lakes, and oceans, and even among mountains. In that age, they experienced only gentle heat and cold. They found natural satisfaction in the objects of the senses, O wise one; among them there was no conflict, no hatred, no envy. They wandered everywhere—on mountains, by the sea—without fixed homes, living without desire and always joyful in mind. But then, new kinds of beings arose: flesh-eating spirits, serpents, demons, envious people, animals, birds, crocodiles, fish, and reptiles. These were of inferior birth, or born from eggs, the offspring of unrighteousness. In those days, there were no roots, fruits, or flowers, nor were there seasons or years. Time was always pleasant—neither too hot nor too cold—and as it passed, wondrous accomplishments arose among the people. In the morning and at midday, they were effortlessly satisfied; whenever they wished, their needs were met. Yet, for those who desired more, exertion of the mind began. Through the subtlety of water, various delightful accomplishments appeared. Then arose another kind of being, able to fulfill every desire. Their bodies required no purification, and they remained ever youthful. Offspring were born in pairs without intention—together, with the same form, and dying at the same time. They lived among each other without desire or aversion; all were equal in form and lifespan, with neither superiority nor inferiority. For thousands of years, humans lived with fixed lifespans, free from suffering and calamity. At certain times and places, the earth was entirely fortunate, but as time passed, beings met their end, as is the nature of all. Gradually, all those wondrous accomplishments vanished everywhere, and when they were lost, people fell from the sky. Then, for the most part, wish-fulfilling trees arose, known as 'house-trees.' All enjoyments came to them from these trees. At the dawn of the Tretā Yuga, they lived upon these trees. Yet, as time flowed, sudden passion arose among them. Month by month, with the changing seasons, conception occurred again and again. With the rise of passion, those house-trees—O Brāhmaṇa—on others, great branches fell, and garments and ornaments grew as fruits. On those very trees, honey appeared in every hollow—fragrant, colorful, and flavorful, strong and unfermented. With this, they lived at the beginning of the Tretā Yuga. But as time passed, greed grew in their hearts. They seized the trees, their minds clouded by a sense of ownership, and because of this misconduct, those great trees too perished for them. With the loss of the house-trees, pairs of opposites arose—cold and heat, hunger and so forth. To counter these, they first built dwellings. In deserts, fortresses, mountains, and caves, they sought refuge, whether in wooded, mountainous, or watery strongholds. They also constructed artificial fortresses, measuring them with their own fingers, and established standards of measurement as before. The finest particle was called a paramāṇu; then came a mote of dust, earth-dust, the tip of a hair, a nit, a louse, and then a barley-corn. Each was eight times the previous. Eight barley-corns made an aṅgula, six aṅgulas a pada, and a vitasti was twice a pada. Two vitastis made a hasta, measured from the wrist to the fingertip; four hastas made a bow’s length, a staff, and a nāḍikā (water-clock) measure. Two thousand bows made a gavyūti, and four times that was called a yojana. The wise declared this the supreme reckoning for measurement. Of the four types of fortresses, three arose naturally; the fourth, the artificial fortress, was constructed with great effort. Cities, small fortified towns, settlements shaped like mortars, branch-towns, and hamlets—all these were established as humanity adapted to the changing world.