Agastya, the venerable sage, began to speak of a wondrous story, profound and universal, woven into the very fabric of existence. “This tale,” he said, “is not distant or abstract—it dwells within you, within me, and within all creatures alike. Whoever seeks to understand its origin must pursue the highest means themselves. From the shepherd came the four-footed beings, and from them emerged the four-faced one.” He explained that the teacher and initiator of this story is the same shepherd, whose son, known as Svara, is remembered as the seventh form. All the methods for achieving the fourfold aims of life, as spoken by this teacher, were cherished by those devoted to the meanings of the Rig Veda. Through their worship, they attained the highest realization. Among the four forms, the first—established on four horns—is the bull. The second and third follow the path set by the teacher, while the fourth, guided by him, worships his son with devotion. The deeds of the seventh form were first heard, and the second form, eternal, lives by the vow of celibacy. Agastya continued, “Then came the care of servants and others, the riding of the bull among the three, and the dwelling in the forest—all prescribed when the bull is established in the self. Another being declares ‘I am’ in fourfold, single, and dual forms; its offspring were born, arising from differences and divisions.” The four-faced one, having witnessed both eternal and non-eternal forms, pondered deeply: “How might I see my own progenitor?” He reflected that the virtues of his father, the great soul, were not present in some descendants of Svara. The tradition holds that the son of a son is called ‘grandfather,’ and so the established lineage continues. At some point, this relationship would manifest, and he was told, “You too should see your father.” Yet, even after acting thus, the four-faced one remained absorbed in thought, wondering what he should do next. As he pondered, a paternal weapon appeared before him. Seized by anger, he used this weapon to churn the essence nearby. From this churning emerged a head, difficult to grasp, with four faces—shaped like a coconut. This head was enveloped by the chief principle, covered tenfold. With a four-edged weapon, he split it as one would a sesame pod. When the sesame-like parts were thoroughly cut, nothing remained at the root. Yet, a being appeared, declaring, “I am I,” and he cut that as well. From that cut, another small being arose, proclaiming, “I am the fivefold origin of beings.” He cut this one too, and then saw emptiness in the five elements. As he created space, all the elements began to speak from nearby. He cut this emptiness as well, with a detached weapon, as if splitting a sesame pod. When this was cut, he saw yet another being, smaller by a tenth part. Cutting this person with a form-cutting weapon, he found another, and in the same way, he made this one—small, white, and gentle. Having done all this, the lord then beheld his own body within the sky, appearing as his father. This form was as small as a speck of dust, imperceptible among all beings. Seeing themselves as equals, both were filled with supreme joy, and all suffering vanished. Such is the person named Svara, renowned for his great austerity. His form is called ‘manifest,’ while his great head is called ‘unmanifest.’ From this very account, manifestation arises; from dissolution, only this remains. This is the very first legend of the entire world. Whoever truly knows this becomes devoted to action. At this point, Bhadrāśva, eager for wisdom, asked, “O twice-born, for one desiring the rise of knowledge, who should be worshipped, and how should he be worshipped? Please tell me.” Agastya replied, “Only Viṣṇu, the supreme lord, is always to be worshipped—even by all the gods. I shall tell you the means by which he bestows boons. The greatest secret of all the gods, sages, and men is Nārāyaṇa, the highest god. One who bows to him never falls.” He recounted that in ancient times, the great sage Nārada narrated a vow that was pleasing to Viṣṇu and to the Apsaras. Once, in a previous age, Nārada went to Lake Manasa to bathe, and there he saw the entire host of Apsaras. These playful women saw him—his hair matted in a crown, his body reduced to skin and bones, holding a staff, umbrella, and skull. Desiring to see the son of Brahma, devoted to austerity and famed for his delight in debates, the Apsaras approached him. They said, “O revered one, son of Brahma, we are desirous of husbands. Tell us how Nārāyaṇa may become our husband.” Nārada replied, “A question preceded by reverent greeting is always auspicious everywhere, but you did not do so, out of pride and youthful arrogance. Nevertheless, whatever name of the god of gods, Viṣṇu, is spoken by you, so let him be your husband. By uttering his name alone, everything is accomplished, without doubt.” He continued, “Now I shall tell you the vow by which Hari himself grants boons and bestows the status of husband. In spring, on the auspicious twelfth day of the bright fortnight, after fasting according to the prescribed manner, one should worship Hari at night. Prepare a bed adorned with various designs, and place upon it a silver image of Hari together with Lakshmi. Then, above it, construct a pavilion with flowers and keep a vigil there with dance and music. Mark the head for the mind-born, the waist for Ananga, the base of the arms for Kama, and the abdomen for the good scriptures…” Thus, Agastya revealed the sacred means for attaining divine blessings, and the eternal wisdom that underlies all creation.