Within the house, all the elements were present: earth, water, fire, and a gentle, cooling wind. The spaces within were pure, each holding its own distinct quality—five in total, each with a single attribute. Among these, there was one that remained apart for a long time, encircling and attaching herself. This was accomplished with ease by that cowherd, O king. As the king’s prowess and noble form shone forth in battle, a remarkable three-colored man appeared and addressed him, saying, “O great king, I am your son. Tell me, what shall I do for you? We have chosen you as our kin, making you the focus of our desire for kinship. Even if we have all been defeated, O lord, we still remain merged within these bodies. Among your sons, one persists; when all others have departed, existence remains.” Thus addressed, the king replied to that extraordinary man, “Become my son, O best of beings, and also the son of the others. I am untouched by the pleasures or natures of men such as you.” Having spoken thus, the king accepted him as his own son. Released by them, the king then rested among them. Agastya continued: That three-colored being, now released and independent, created a son named Aham, who too was three-colored. Aham had a daughter who embodied understanding, and she gave birth to a son called Manohva, the bestower of knowledge. Manohva in turn had five sons of various forms—five enjoyers—whose own sons were known as Akṣa, each according to their number. These Akṣas had once been bandits, but were subdued by the king. All of them, though seemingly formless, together fashioned a beautiful abode. This city they made had nine gates, a single central pillar, and four crossroads. It was established amidst a thousand rivers, with waterworks flowing throughout. The nine, united, entered this city. Then, in a single instant, a person appeared there—embodied both as a king and as a shepherd. Dwelling in that city, the great king and shepherd recalled the Vedas and indicated the words of the reciters. The king performed all the vows, disciplines, and sacrifices described as eternal and pertaining to the true nature of the self. In time, the king, having promoted ritual actions, grew weary. Being omniscient, he entered into yogic sleep and from himself produced a son. This son had four faces, four arms, and embodied the four Vedas and four crossroads. From him, the king, all creatures—beginning with cattle—came under his authority. In that ocean, in the forest, and among the grasses, the king himself was present. Likewise, among elephants and other beings, he was equal, having permitted the performance of rituals, O wise one. Then Bhadrāśva asked, “O Brahman, you have narrated the story in response to my question. Whose glory was that, and by whom and how was it accomplished?” Agastya replied, “This wondrous story is universal, O king. It is present in your body, in mine, and in all creatures alike. Whoever seeks its origin should look for the supreme means himself. From the shepherd arose the four-footed, and from them, the four-faced. He is the teacher and initiator of this tale; his son, named Svara, is remembered as the seventh form. Whatever means for the fourfold purpose he taught, those devoted to the meanings of the Rig Veda worshipped and attained. Among the four, the first, established on four horns, is the bull; the second and third follow his path, and the fourth, guided by him, worships the son with devotion. The deeds of the seventh form were heard first, O king; the second, the eternal one, lives by celibacy. Then, the care of servants and others, the mounting of the bull among the three, and dwelling in the forest were prescribed, once the bull is established within the self. Another declares ‘I am,’ in fourfold, single, and dual forms; the offspring of that one were born, arising from differences and divisions. Having seen the eternal and non-eternal forms before him, the four-faced one pondered, ‘How may I see my progenitor, O king?’ He reflected, ‘The virtues of my father, the great soul, which once existed, are not now seen among some of the descendants of Svara. The son of a son is called ‘grandfather’; thus is the tradition among descendants, and not otherwise. At some point, this relationship will arise; you too should see your father.’ Even after acting thus, he became absorbed in thought, wondering what should be done. As he pondered, a paternal weapon appeared before him. With that weapon, out of anger, he churned the essence nearby. As soon as he churned it, he beheld a head, difficult to grasp, with four faces, shaped like a coconut. That head was enveloped by the chief principle, covered tenfold. With a four-edged weapon, he cut it as one would a sesame pod. When the sesame-like parts were thoroughly cut, nothing remained at the root. Yet, declaring ‘I am I,’ a being appeared, and he cut that as well. When that was cut, he saw on its part another small being, saying from nearby, ‘I am the fivefold origin of beings.’ He cut that too, and then saw emptiness in the five elements. Having made space, all of them began to speak from nearby. He cut that too with a detached weapon, again like a sesame pod. When that was cut, he saw another, smaller by a tenth part. Cutting that person with a form-cutting weapon, he saw yet another; in the same way, he made that one—small, white, and gentle. Thus, O king, the succession of beings, forms, and consciousness unfolded, each layer revealing a deeper mystery within the self and the universe.