When the world had dissolved into a single, boundless ocean, and all things—moving and unmoving—had been destroyed, only the Lord remained, adorned with countless bodies and forms, each emerging from innumerable lotuses. He, the subtlest of the subtle, was the one who expands and contracts the cosmic egg, the very womb of creation. In that vast, silent expanse, the sage Markandeya remained, beholding with wonder the divine play of the Great Lord. O wise one, it is said that in that primal dissolution, only Hari endured, when all else was consumed by him. Why was it that only he remained, when everything else had ceased? Who among men would not eagerly drink the nectar of Hari’s glory, which grants liberation and bliss? In the sacred land of Shalagrama, a place of great holiness, the ascetic Mṛkaṇḍu performed intense austerities. He fasted, was steadfast in forbearance, always spoke the truth, and kept his senses under control. With self-restraint and a heart devoted to the welfare of all beings, he practiced supreme penance. The gods, troubled by the power of Mṛkaṇḍu’s austerities, sought refuge in the Supreme Lord, Narayana, the flawless one. Gathering together, they praised the Lord of gods, the lotus-naveled, the teacher of the world, saying, “O Lord, protect us who have taken shelter in you, for we are frightened by the force of Mṛkaṇḍu’s penance.” They offered him victory and salutations: “Victory to you, who are the very form of the world! Victory to you, the cause of the cosmic egg! Salutations to you, Lord and witness of the worlds! Salutations to you, whose form is meditation and who are the fruit of meditation! Salutations to you, origin of the earth, and embodiment of consciousness! Salutations to you, who are formless, whose true form is your own, and who manifest in many forms! Repeated salutations to Krishna, to Govinda, for the welfare of all beings. Salutations to you, who appear as the Sun and in many other forms, who accept the offerings of oblations and ancestral rites. Salutations again and again to you, who destroy the suffering of those who remember you.” Moved by their devotion, the Lord, bearing the conch, discus, and mace, revealed himself to them. He appeared resplendent, adorned with all ornaments, his chest marked by the Śrīvatsa, and surrounded by the best of sages and devoted attendants. Filled with joy and reverence, the gods offered him eightfold prostrations. Pleased by their devotion, the Lord spoke gently to the assembled gods, with Indra at their head. “O gods, that sage, foremost among the virtuous, does not trouble you. The best among gods never trouble another—not even in dreams. How can a wise person, before securing his own protection, bear enmity toward another? How can one who is noble ever wish to harm or play with another’s well-being? Only those always engaged in desire and delusion are called of confused mind. The noble ones, however, are recognized as unattached by the virtuous. Return in peace to your own abodes; he will not trouble you.” Thus, shining like a jasmine flower, the Lord granted them a boon. Satisfied, the hosts of gods returned to their heavenly realms as they had come. The formless, supreme Brahman—the self-luminous, stainless One—remained. When Mṛkaṇḍu saw the Lord bearing divine weapons, he was filled with astonishment. He beheld the serene Creator, whose gracious face radiated with universal splendor. Overcome with devotion, Mṛkaṇḍu bowed flat to the ground before the eternal Lord of gods, and, placing his hands upon his head, began to offer his heartfelt praises.