O best of sages, listen as I recount the wondrous tale of creation and dissolution, as spoken in the ancient tradition. In the fullness of time, the sky itself will be seared with intense heat, O scorcher of foes, and then the entire world—with its gods and stars—will be drawn into destruction. At that moment, the seven mighty clouds of dissolution appear: Saṃvarta, Bhīmanāda, Droṇa, Caṇḍa, Balāhaka, Vidyutpatāka, and Śoṇa. Born from the sweat of the cosmic fire, these clouds will pour forth torrents, flooding the earth, while the oceans, violently agitated, surge together and merge into a single, boundless sea. All three worlds will be submerged in this one vast ocean. Yet, amidst the deluge, the boat of the Vedas, carrying the seeds of all beings, is preserved. “Fasten the boat with a rope I have bestowed upon you,” says the Blessed Lord, “and secure it to my horn, for I shall protect you in the form of a fish.” Thus, you alone, O virtuous one, will remain even as the gods are consumed, together with Brahmā—he who bears the moon and sun—and the four worlds. The sacred river Narmadā, the great sage Mārkaṇḍeya, Bhava, the Vedas, the Purāṇas, and all the sciences, surrounded on every side, will endure with you through this intermediate dissolution. When the single ocean arises at the end of the Cākṣuṣa epoch, the universe, preserved in the boat, will survive. At the dawn of your new creation, O king, I shall again reveal the Vedas. Having thus spoken, the Blessed Lord vanished from sight. Manu, steadfast in his devotion, entered into deep yoga through 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. Then, a serpent, taking the form of a rope, approached Manu’s side. Gathering all beings together through his yogic power, the knower of righteousness placed them aboard the boat. With the serpent-rope, he fastened the vessel to the fish’s horn, and standing above, he bowed in reverence to Janārdana. When the vast flood had subsided, Manu addressed the Lord, who rested in yogic repose in his fish form, and inquired about the ancient lore. This, O twice-born, is the very question you have asked me—the origin of creation and all that follows. Manu himself asked Keshava, the Lord, while afloat upon the primeval ocean. He asked about creation and dissolution, the lineages of Manus and their descendants, and the expanse of the worlds. He inquired as well 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. Hear now, for I shall relate all this dharma in detail. At the end of the great dissolution, everything was enveloped in darkness—unfathomable, unmanifest, and without distinguishing features, as if the world itself lay in deep sleep. All that was, both moving and unmoving, was unknown and unknowable. Then, from that darkness, arose the self-born, the unmanifest source of all virtuous deeds. He who dispels darkness, beyond the senses, subtler and greater than the manifest, eternal—Narayana by name—alone manifested himself to reveal all this. Desiring to create the diverse world by thought from his own being, he first produced the waters and then placed his seed within them. That seed became the cosmic egg, vast and radiant like gold and silver, shining with the brilliance of ten thousand suns, enduring for a thousand years. Entering within by his own great power, the self-born again assumed the form of Vishnu. Within that cosmic egg, the blessed Sun was first born; because he was the original being, he became Brahma, the reciter of the Veda. From the two halves of the egg, Brahma made the heavens and the earth, creating all the directions and, in their midst, the eternal sky. From the cosmic egg arose the rivers, the ancestors, and the Manus; from its inner waters, the seven oceans came forth, filled variously with salt, sugarcane juice, wine, and precious gems. Desiring to create, the god Prajapati—O subduer of foes—brought forth from that brilliance the Sun, Martanda. Because he was born from the dead egg, he is known as Martanda. That great soul, his form composed of the quality of passion, became the four-faced Lord, the grandsire of the worlds. Know that he who created the entire world—gods, asuras, and humans—is called the great being, the embodiment of passion. How did the grandsire of the worlds come to have four faces, and how did Brahma, best knower of Brahman, create the worlds? In the beginning, the grandsire of the immortals performed deep austerities; then the Vedas, with all their limbs, sub-divisions, and sequences, became manifest to him. Of all the ancient scriptures, Brahma first remembered the eternal Veda, composed of sacred sound and spanning a hundred crore verses. Then, from his mouths, the Vedas emerged, along with Mimamsa, Nyaya, and all the sciences, joined with the eightfold means of knowledge. Devoted to the study of the Vedas and desiring offspring, Brahma created from his mind the mind-born sons—the great sages. First came Marichi, then the venerable Atri; after him, Angiras, then Pulastya. Pulaha followed, then Kratu, from whom Prachetas was born, and again, Vasistha became his son. Bhrigu was also born, and soon after, Narada. Thus, Brahma generated these ten mind-born sages as his sons. Now, hear of the bodily sons, those without mothers, of the Lord of creatures: from his right thumb, Daksha, the progenitor, was born. From his breast arose Dharma, from his heart Kamadeva, from between his brows anger, and from the lower regions, greed. Thus, O wise one, the tale of dissolution and creation, the preservation of knowledge, and the arising of the great beings is recounted, as it was spoken in the ancient days.