O noble one, at the dawn of dissolution, the divine Fish instructed Manu: “Gather all beings—those born from sweat, from eggs, from sprouts, and those born alive—place these helpless creatures in this vessel and protect them, O virtuous king. When the winds of the world’s end batter the boat, tie it to my horn, O lord of kings. When all that moves and does not move dissolves away, you shall become the progenitor of the world. At the beginning of the Kṛta Yuga, you, wise and steadfast, will be the lord of a new age, worthy of worship by the gods themselves.” Hearing these words, Manu asked Madhusūdana, “Blessed Lord, after how many years will this destruction come? How shall I protect all beings, and how will I be united with you again?” The Lord replied, “From today, for more than a hundred years, no rain will fall upon the earth. Famine will arise, bringing great misfortune. When living beings are few and perishing, the seven dreadful rays of the seven suns will appear, raining burning embers upon the world. At the end of the age, the fire of Aurva will blaze fiercely, joined by the venomous fire from the mouth of Sankarṣaṇa in the netherworld, and the fire from the third eye on the forehead of Bhava. These fires will burn the three worlds, reducing all to ashes. The sky will be seared with heat, and then the world, along with gods and stars, will be destroyed. “Seven great clouds—Saṃvarta, Bhīmanāda, Droṇa, Caṇḍa, Balāhaka, Vidyutpatāka, and Śoṇa—will arise, born from the sweat of fire. They will flood the earth, and the oceans will merge into one. All three worlds will become a single ocean, and you will carry the boat of the Vedas and the seeds of all beings. Fasten the boat with the serpent-rope I have given you, and tie it to my horn. I, as the Fish, will protect you. “You alone will remain among the gods, even as they are consumed, along with Brahmā, who bears the sun and moon, and the four worlds. The sacred Narmadā, the great sage Mārkaṇḍeya, Bhava, the Vedas, the Purāṇas, and all the sciences will be with you, surrounded on every side. With you, this universe will endure through the dissolution. When the one ocean rises at the end of the Cākṣuṣa epoch, I will set forth the Vedas at the beginning of your creation.” Having spoken thus, the Blessed Lord vanished. Manu, steadfast, engaged in yoga by the grace of Vāsudeva, practicing until the foretold flood arrived. When the appointed time came, from the mouth of Vāsudeva appeared the horned one—Janārdana in the form of a great Fish. A serpent, transformed into a rope, approached Manu’s side. Gathering all beings, Manu, wise in righteousness, placed them on the vessel through the power of yoga. He then fastened the boat to the Fish’s horn with the serpent-rope and, standing above, bowed in reverence to Janārdana. After the great flood had passed, Manu approached the Fish-formed Lord, who reclined in yoga, and asked about the ancient lore. Listen now, O best of sages, as I recount what Manu learned upon the primeval ocean. Manu inquired of Keśava about creation and dissolution, the lineages and Manus, the deeds of their descendants, and the expanse of the worlds. He asked about the rules of charity and righteousness, the eternal rites of ancestor worship, the divisions of class and stage of life, and the acts of sacrifice and beneficence. He sought knowledge of the establishment of the gods and all that exists on earth, seeking a full account of dharma. At the end of the great dissolution, all was enveloped in darkness: unfathomable, unmanifest, and without discernible qualities, as if in deep sleep. The world, both stationary and moving, was unknowable and unknown. Then, the self-born, unmanifest source of all virtue arose—he who dispels darkness, beyond the senses, subtler than the manifest, eternal, known as Nārāyaṇa. Desiring to create the diverse world by thought, he first produced the waters and placed his seed within them. That seed became the cosmic egg, vast and shining like gold and silver, radiant as ten thousand suns, over a thousand years. Entering within by his own brilliance, the self-born Lord, by his power and pervasion, assumed again the form of Viṣṇu. Within the egg, the blessed Sun was first born; as the original being, he became Brahmā, the reciter of the Veda. From the two halves of the egg, he made the heavens and the earth, all the directions, and in the middle, the eternal sky. From the cosmic egg arose the rivers, the ancestors, and the Manus; from the inner waters came the seven oceans, filled with salt, sugarcane juice, wine, and precious gems. Desiring to create, Prajāpati was born from that brilliance as Martanda, the Sun. Because he was born from the dead egg, he is remembered as Martanda; his form, composed of the quality of passion, became the four-faced Lord, the grandsire of the worlds. Know that the one who created the entire world—gods, asuras, and humans—is the great being, the very embodiment of passion.