Sanatkumāra, filled with curiosity and reverence, approached the assembly of sages and asked, “Tell us truly about the dharma whose course is immeasurable.” Hearing these words, the foremost of sages bowed respectfully, and the Earth herself responded, “Certainly.” Turning to the goddess, he invited her to speak words of blessing. The goddess began to recount the ancient times, describing a period when the moon and wind had vanished from the world, when the sun and stars were lost, and darkness reigned. In that primordial state, the wind did not blow, nor was there fire or lightning. Even the Vedas had disappeared. In those depths, the divine took the form of a fish and entered the waters of the netherworld, preserving the essence of dharma. At another time, during the churning of the ocean, he assumed the form of a tortoise to support the gods and demons. Again, as a mighty boar, he rescued the Earth herself when she was sinking into the netherworld. In yet another era, Hiranyakashipu, drunk with arrogance from his boon, appeared as a threat. The divine manifested as the man-lion, Narasimha, and destroyed the demon, restoring balance. Later, the demon Ravana was slain by the Lord’s own power. The goddess confessed, “O God, I do not know anything of your activities. After creating everything, what did you command? Nothing at all was understood.” She described a time when there were no rays, no stars, nor planets. Saturn, Mercury, Indra, Kubera, and Yama were absent; only the three gods—Brahma, Vishnu, and Maheshvara—were present. Seeking refuge, the goddess Madhavi spoke humbly, “O Grandfather, rescue me together with the mountains and forests.” The Lord entered deep meditation for a moment and then addressed the Earth. He revealed himself as the lord of the worlds, the foremost of gods, the original creator. He declared that whatever action arises for any being, it is all his work. He is the god who lies on Ananta, resting in yogic sleep. With hands joined in reverence, the goddess pleaded with Madhava, “I am burdened and have taken refuge with Brahma.” But when she was rejected by the Blessed Lord, she spoke again, “If you are able to rescue me, who am submerged in the ocean, with devotion I seek refuge in you; be gracious to me, O Mādhava.” The goddess extolled him: “You are Indra, you are Varuṇa, you are Agni, and you are also Vāyu. You are the Fish, the Tortoise, the Boar, the Man-Lion, and the Dwarf. Thus you are seen through yoga; you are heard of, O greatly renowned one. You are earth, air, space, water, and fire as the fifth. With their planets and stars, the divisions of time—kalās, kāṣṭhās, and muhūrtas—month, fortnight, day and night, season, and also the years, kalās, kāṣṭhās, the six months, and the six seasons as well—all are restrained by you.” She continued, “You are Meru, Mandara, Vindhya, Malaya, and Dardura mountains. Of bows you are Pināka; you are the supreme Sāṃkhya and Yoga. You are both the contraction and the expansion, the protector, and the eternal sacrifice. Of the Vedas, you are the Sāma Veda, complete with its limbs and sub-limbs, the great vow. You produce the nectar, O Viṣṇu, by which you uphold the worlds. All this world, what is to be meditated on and what is not, and whatever moves—everything is yours.” Thus, in reverent praise and supplication, the goddess and the Earth acknowledged the immeasurable course of dharma, the profound manifestations of the divine, and the Lord’s all-pervading presence in creation, preservation, and dissolution.