Then Brahmā beheld Hari, the infallible one, radiant with a brilliance that outshone all. In that vision, he saw Lord Nārāyaṇa, existing in a realm of radiance even above that of Maheśvara himself. Approaching Brahmā, the divine Hari gently touched him with his finger and spoke words of profound assurance: “For the protection of the worlds, the best among all archers will be born.” Having spoken thus, the blessed Lord took the sacred fire into his own hand. In reverence, Maheśvara too always honored that extraordinary being. At the end of the age, Brahmā addressed the fire, proclaiming, “Bhṛgu and Aṅgirās will indeed be your sons, without doubt.” By dividing that fire into two, Brahmā set in motion the sacrifice of creation. These two fires, united and directed by Brahmā’s command, began their sacred journey. Thus, the union within the womb of the śamī tree and the aśvattha is recounted, and from this union, a son was born—beneficial and excellent—known as the fourth. In this way, the fifth mouth of Brahmā came into being. Whoever understands this supreme creation, the radiance of the gods, and whoever listens with faith to this account of Agni’s origin—which hints at the greatness of Paśupati—and recites it with devotion before the foremost of the twice-born and the gods, O Vyāsa, that person, though absorbed in the world, is greatly honored by the gods in the city of Śiva. O sage, you ask: What did Brahmā do there, and what expiation was performed for those acts? What actions did Janārdana and Śaṅkara take? With excellent kuśa grass and sacred kindling, as formerly prescribed by Hari, the sages Nara and Nārāyaṇa journeyed to the hermitage at Badarī. Meanwhile, the Lord of the gods, holding a skull in his hand, wandered the earth. The land through which he passed was covered with a rich tapestry of trees and creepers, adorned with countless varieties of flowers. The air was fragrant with the scent of trees heavy with blossoms, and fruits—both ripe and unripe—hung from the branches, endowed with many tastes and qualities. Scattered about were withered leaves, grasses, dry wood, and fruits, while the wind carried the intoxicating fragrance of many clusters of flowers. The trees stood with green, glossy, unbroken leaves, their hollows unblemished. Some trees were healthy and well-formed, others wild in their growth, all covered with beautiful new sprouts that mingled with the breeze. Their tops, tossed by the wind, touched one another gently. In some places, nāga trees were adorned with flowers, their “hair” tangled with swarming bees. Elsewhere, the karṇikāra trees stood tall, their crowns thickly set with blossoms. Rows of sinduvāra trees gleamed with the splendor of their abundant, magnificent flowers. Jasmine creepers shone here and there, adorned with splendid white blossoms, while clusters of yūthikā creepers radiated the beauty of coral-red flowers. In certain forest regions, śāla and arjuna trees bloomed in their full glory. Vines, heavy with blossoms, entwined every tree, so that none stood bare. Mango and tilaka trees, too, were adorned with clusters of blossoms, as if the flowers were hands extending in welcome. The tender shoots of tilaka and aśoka trees joined together, and the trees, bent low with fruit and flowers, appeared gentle, like noble souls. Content in the embrace of the wind and surrounded by fields of rice, the trees flourished in that sacred land.