In the beginning, it is Brahmā himself who sets forth the creation of the world. He carefully brings forth all beings and preserves this creation through each age, sustaining it for as long as the great cycle of time—the kalpa—endures. Yet, this Brahmā is none other than Lord Janārdana, the one Supreme Lord. Endowed with the pure quality of sattva, he is the god of immeasurable power, assuming the role and name of Brahmā for the sake of creation. But when the kalpa draws to its end, this same Lord takes on a fearsome form, dark and terrible. In this aspect, O king, he devours all beings, consuming the worlds in a mighty dissolution. When all creation has been swallowed and the universe is reduced to a single, boundless ocean, he reclines upon the serpent couch, Ananta, bearing within himself all forms and all possibilities. Then, when the time is ripe, he awakens once more. He brings forth the world anew, assuming various forms for the tasks of creation, preservation, and destruction—manifesting as Brahmā, Viṣṇu, and Śiva. The creator creates himself; Viṣṇu protects all that is to be preserved, and the Lord himself withdraws and dissolves the world at the appointed time. He alone is the source and lord of all beings, manifesting as earth, water, fire, wind, and space. His form is universal, imperishable, and the origin of all things. Thus, all creation and its support exist within him—he is both the created and the creator, the protector and the protected. From Brahmā down to the smallest being, he assumes infinite forms. He is the supreme Brahmā, the giver of boons, the most excellent of all. Hearing this, Bhīṣma inquires, “How can the qualityless, immeasurable, pure, and great soul—Brahman—be the agent of creation and the rest?” Pulastya replies, “The powers of all beings are ultimately inconceivable and can only be grasped by knowledge. In the same way, the creative and other powers of Brahman exist. Though the wise declare that he is born, in truth he is eternal. By his own measure, his lifespan is reckoned as a hundred years.” This span is called a parārdha, and half of that is also described. O best of kings, time is measured in subtle units: fifteen nimeṣas make a kāṣṭhā; thirty kāṣṭhās make a kalā; thirty kalās make a muhūrta. With these, a day and night are reckoned, and so the human day is measured. A number of these days and nights make a month, which is divided into two fortnights. Six such months form a year, split into the southern and northern courses of the sun. For the gods, the southern course is their night and the northern course is their day. The great periods called Kṛta, Tretā, Dvāpara, and Kali yugas are measured by thousands of divine years. Listen as I explain how the four yugas are divided into twelve parts: four for Kṛta, three for Tretā, two for Dvāpara, and one for Kali. Each yuga, the ancient knowers say, is composed of thousands of divine years, with preceding and following twilights measured in hundreds. The period between these twilights is the yuga itself. These four yugas together make a caturyuga. A thousand such caturyugas make a single day of Brahmā. In one day of Brahmā, there are fourteen Manus. The time of the Seven Sages, the gods, Indra, Manu, and his sons is measured accordingly. All of them are created and dissolved together, as before, and each manvantara—the period of a Manu and the gods—contains a little more than seventy-one caturyugas. The duration of a manvantara, by divine reckoning, is eight hundred thousand years, with an additional fifty-two thousand. In total, this comes to thirty crores, with sixty-seven niyutas and twenty thousand more—this is the measure in human years. Fourteen such manvantaras make a day of Brahmā. At the end of Brahmā’s day, called naimittika, comes dissolution: all three worlds—Bhū, Bhuvaḥ, and others—are consumed by fire. The residents of Maharloka, scorched by this heat, ascend to Jana-loka. When the three worlds become a single ocean, Brahmā, the knower of Brahman, rests upon the serpent-bed, having swallowed the worlds, while steadfast yogis of Jana-loka meditate upon him. For a night equal in length to his day, Brahmā rests. At its end, he creates again. Thus passes a year of Brahmā, and a hundred such years mark his supreme lifespan. Of these, one parārdha has already passed, O sinless one. At the end of that, the great kalpa called Pādma became renowned. Now, O king, the second parārdha is underway. The Varaha is the first kalpa conceived in this cycle. At the beginning of the kalpa, the Blessed One, known as Brahma-Narayana, existed thus. He, the origin of all, created all beings. At the end of the previous kalpa, after the cosmic night had passed and the Lord awoke, Brahmā, filled with the quality of sattva, beheld the world as empty. Realizing that the earth was submerged in the cosmic waters, the Lord of creatures reflected and desired to raise her up. Recognizing the power and form of Viṣṇu, he resolved to lift the earth by his own might. He entered the form of a boar, distinct from those of fish, tortoise, and others. Assuming a form composed of the Vedas and sacrifice, he, the steadfast Self and Lord of creatures, remained for the support of the world. Then, as the bearer of the earth, he entered the waters, the very foundation of all. There he beheld the goddess Earth, Vasundhara, who had sunk to the nethermost realm. Seeing him, she bowed down in devotion, her heart humbled in worship, and praised him with reverence: “Salutations to you, who are all beings; salutations to you, Supreme Self.