The Brahmarshis, filled with righteousness, gathered and addressed the venerable sage. They lamented that, among the lines of seers, his lineage had been severed at its very root. He alone remained, without offspring, the last of his line; from youth, he had embraced the vow of celibacy, enduring its hardships, and no other of his lineage existed. They observed that, among purified sages, many lineages had arisen, but their bodies remained solitary, bereft of progeny. Thus, with sons cut off at the root, their cause had faded, yet he, foremost in austerity and radiant as Prajapati, still endured. The Brahmarshis implored him: “Act for the sake of your lineage; increase yourself by your own self. With the virtue you have acquired, create a second body.” Struck to the core by their words, the sage reproached the assembled seers. He recalled the eternal practice established among sages of old: the rishi’s way, living on forest roots and fruits, devoted to service. For a Brahmin born from Brahma who realizes the self, well-practiced celibacy could even shake the mind of Brahma himself. There were three ways of life for householders, he said, but for those dwelling in forest hermitages, the ascetic life was supreme. He described the steadfast: those who lived on water or air, those who ground food with their teeth, those who pounded with stones, those who endured the fivefold heat. These undertook the most difficult vows, with celibacy at the forefront, seeking the highest state. It was from celibacy that a Brahmin’s Brahminhood was established, as the knowers of celibacy declared in the other world. Truth abided in celibacy, austerity abided in celibacy; those Brahmins steadfast in celibacy dwelled in heaven. Without yoga, there was no attainment, nor fame without attainment; in this world, celibacy was the root of fame, and no austerity was greater. He who restrained the senses and the fivefold elements, establishing himself in celibacy—what austerity surpassed this? He warned against hypocrisy: wearing matted hair without union, performing vows without resolve, and conduct without celibacy—these three were false. He questioned: “Where are wives, where is union, and where is the confusion of feelings? Was not this mental progeny created by Brahma through his mind?” He challenged the sages: “If you, knowing your own selves, possess power of austerity, then create mental sons by the act of Prajapati. The womb created by the mind should be established by ascetics; for those released by vows, there is neither union nor seed.” He reproved their request: “What you have declared here, fearlessly, abandoning righteousness and purpose, seems to me, though spoken by the good, as if by the wicked.” Resolute, he declared: “Having made this body, with a blazing inner self, of the substance of mind, I shall create a son sprung from my own body, without union. My own self will beget a second self by this wild method, as if wishing to burn up the creatures.” Possessed by austerity, the sage placed his thigh in the sacred fire. With a single blade of grass, he churned his thigh as the fire-stick for the birth of a son. Suddenly, piercing his thigh, a flame-wreathed, fuel-less son was born—Agni—desiring to burn the world. Splitting open Urvaśī’s thigh, the fierce fire called Aurva, the Ender, was born, as if wishing to consume the three worlds. Immediately upon birth, Aurva spoke to his father in a voice weakened by hunger: “Father, hunger torments me; release me to consume the world.” Expanding with flames reaching the heavens, blazing in all ten directions, burning all beings, the fierce fire grew. Brahmā, honoring the sage Aurva, intervened: “Restrain your son and show compassion to the world. For this child of yours, O sage, I shall provide an excellent abode. This is the truth, O son, best of speakers, listen to my words.” Aurva replied: “Blessed and favored am I, since today the Lord grants this understanding for my child, truly for the highest grace.” Brahmā continued: “When the desired time comes at dawn, your son, satisfied by the offerings of the Pitṛs, will attain happiness. Where will his dwelling be, and what will his food be? The Lord will arrange for this mighty one, equal in energy.” Brahmā revealed: “His dwelling will be at the mouth of the submarine fire in the ocean; my womb is water, and happiness will come to him who drinks it. Where I constantly drank water as an offering, that offering I now bestow for your son, and that will be his abode. Then, at the end of the age, I and this fire together will roam, removing the debts of those without offspring. This fire, consuming water, was made by me for the end of time—a burner of all beings, including gods, asuras, and rākṣasas.” Agni, his flames encircling him, replied, “So be it,” and, casting his radiance upon his father, entered the mouth of the ocean. Then Brahma and all the great sages, perceiving the radiance of Aurva’s fire, each returned to their own abode. Witnessing this great and wondrous event, Hiranyakashipu, bowing with his whole body, spoke aloud: “Blessed one, this marvel has occurred before the eyes of the world; by your austerity, O best of sages, even the Grandsire is satisfied.