Long ago, your father, the sage Aṅgiras, yearned for a son. With this desire in his heart, he undertook severe austerities and devoted himself to my worship. Through the intensity of his penance, he was blessed with you—a son of immeasurable energy. I declared you to be a great sage, steadfast in the Self and endowed with boundless might. Indeed, who else, if not one born of the Lord of beings, would have the courage to behold me as I sport within the single, endless ocean, revealed only through the path of yoga? At that moment, Mārkaṇḍeya, the great ascetic, stood before me. His face radiated joy and his eyes widened with wonder. With deep reverence, he joined his hands and placed them upon his head. He spoke his name and lineage—Mārkaṇḍeya, long-lived and honored throughout the world—and then, with heartfelt devotion, he bowed before the Blessed Lord. With humility and longing, Mārkaṇḍeya addressed me: “O faultless one, I wish to understand the truth of your Māyā—how is it that you, in the midst of the single ocean, remain in the form of a child? By what name are you known in the world, O Lord? I contemplate you, the great soul—who else is worthy to stand firm before you?” I replied, “O brāhmaṇa, I am Nārāyaṇa, the destroyer of all beings. I am the one known as the Thousand-headed, recognized by those very names. I am the Person whose color is like the sun, the sacrifice imbued with Brahman. I am Agni, the bearer of offerings, and the imperishable lord of the waters. In the station of Indra, I am Śakra; among the rains, I am the year; I am the yogin of the age called Yuga, and the very revolution at the end of the age. “I am all beings, indeed all the gods; among serpents, I am Śeṣa, and among all birds, I am Tārkṣya. I am Death, called Time, for all beings and all worlds. I am Dharma and I am austerity, for all who dwell in every order of life. I am all the divine rivers, the ocean of milk, and the great sea; I alone am the supreme truth, the Lord of creatures. “I am Sāṃkhya, I am Yoga, and I am that supreme state. I am worship and ritual, and I am known as the Lord of knowledge. I am the light, I am the wind, I am the earth, I am the sky; I am the waters and the oceans, the stars and the ten directions. I am the rain, I am the moon, I am the raincloud, I am the sun; I reside in the ocean of milk, and in the sea I am the submarine fire. Becoming the consuming fire, I drink the watery oblation; I am the ancient one, the supreme, and the ultimate goal. “I am the origin of what has been, what will be, and what is. Whatever you see, O sage, and whatever you hear—all of that too is me. Whatever you experience in this world, remember all that as me. I created the universe before, and even now am to create it again—behold me. In every age, O Mārkaṇḍeya, I will create the entire world. Know, Mārkaṇḍeya, that all this, everything, is truly so. “If you wish to hear my teachings, dwell happily within my womb; Brahmā abides in my body, together with the gods and sages. Understand me as the union of manifest and unmanifest, the enemy of the asuras. I am the single-syllabled mantra and also the three-syllabled, the liberating one. Beyond the three aims of life, I am Om, the signifier of their meaning.” Thus spoke the wise lord of the ancient Purana. Then, with a swift motion, I drew the great sage Mārkaṇḍeya into myself through my mouth, and he entered into my belly. There, in that secluded place, he joyfully listened to the imperishable Swan. I, assuming many forms, moved within the great ocean, with the sun and moon vanished, slowly wandering. As the Lord called the Swan, I created and roamed the world as time unfolded. Having become the waters themselves, I practiced austerity, concealing my own form, taking birth among the race of aquatic beings. Intent on the creation of the world, I, the great-souled and exceedingly powerful one, reflected upon the five great elements and the universe. As I pondered, with the wind stilled and the ocean at rest, the world was subtle, deep, filled with water, and without space. I gently agitated the ocean, I who rest in the waters, and from the endless waves, a subtle fissure arose in ancient times. From that fissure, sound was born, and from sound, wind came forth. The wind, having found an opening, grew strong and unshakable. As the wind increased in strength, it stirred the ocean, and from those agitated waters, the Lord of fire, Vaiśvānara of the dark path, arose. The fire began to dry up the abundant waters, and as the ocean diminished, a great opening appeared and the sky expanded. The pure waters, born from the radiance of the Self, were like the very essence of immortality. From the presence of openings, space arose, and from space, wind was born. From the friction of wind and space, fire emerged. Seeing this, I, the great god, revealer of the great elements, was pleased. Beholding the elements, I, the Blessed Lord, contemplated the many-formed birth of Brahmā for the supreme purpose of creating the worlds. At the end of a thousand cycles of four yugas, the Soul of the Universe, having many births, is called the offering of Brahmā. The knowledge that rains down upon the earth for the sake of the universe, from the twice-born lords whose souls are purified by austerity, becomes supreme among yogins. Recognizing Brahmā as endowed with yoga and perfect sovereignty, I, the knower of yoga, appointed him to the supreme state of Brahmā, Lord of the Universe. Then, in those great waters, I, Hari—the infallible one, creator of all worlds—delighted in play within the waters, following the proper order. At that time, I produced a single lotus from my navel, with a thousand petals, spotless and shining like the sun, golden in hue.