In the beginning, the Supreme Lord beheld the worlds as empty, desiring to manifest the highest form of creation. He stirred the realm of his mind, and from his own measure, he fashioned a shape. Standing in this awakened state, the cosmic egg came into being; as it was divided, the earthly realm, Bhūloka, was established. A second world appeared in the middle, radiant like the sun, and within its lotus sheath, the Ancient Person—pervading all—was established. This was Nārāyaṇa, the god whose brilliance matched that of the progenitor. From his navel, he produced the first vowel 'a,' and also the consonant 'ha,' thus giving rise to the primordial sounds. At the creation of the formless, he sang forth the sacred scriptures to all directions. Having brought them into existence, the immeasurable Self again contemplated what would support all things. As he reflected, a great radiance emerged from his eyes: from the right, it shone like fire; from the left, it was cool like the moon. Witnessing this, the Supreme Lord fashioned the moon and the sun. Then breath arose, and from the Lord, the wind was born. This wind, blessed and pervasive, moves within the heart even now. From the wind arose fire, and from fire, the great water was generated. That fire is the divine radiance, the supreme cause of the Brāhmaṇas. From his arms, the Lord created the radiance of the Kṣatriyas. From his thighs, he brought forth the Vaiśyas, and from his feet, the Śūdras. He also created the Yakṣas and Rākṣasas. With these four kinds of beings, he filled the earth-world. The atmosphere-world was populated with beings who move through the sky, and the heaven-world with other celestial entities. Maharloka was filled with these beings and with Sanaka and his companions, while Janaloka was filled with the Vairājas. Tapoloka was populated with those devoted to austerity, and Satyaloka with gods who are free from death. Having thus established creation, the blessed Lord—the originator of all beings—remained awake in his own cycle of time, called a kalpa, as the Supreme Lord. In this world, the earth, atmosphere, and heaven are born; all three come into being without doubt. But when the Lord sleeps at the end of a kalpa, that is considered his night. Then these three worlds become dormant, as if submerged in dissolution. When that night had passed, the lotus-eyed Lord arose and contemplated the Vedas and their mothers in all four directions. Yet, though he pondered, he could not find the Vedas. Desiring to establish the path and order of the worlds, but confused by the sleep of ignorance, the Lord reflected: "Here, the Vedas are not present." Then, seeing them merged in his own form called 'water,' the Lord wished to recover them, and thought to become a fish, entering the waters. As he meditated, a great fish instantly appeared; the Lord entered the water, stirring it all around. Upon entering, the water became radiant with the form of the great earth-bearer. As the best of gods took the form of a fish and entered the vast ocean, the other gods praised Hari, who held the earth, with hymns. They offered homage to him, acknowledging his transcendence beyond the reach of the Vedas and reasoning, and saluted Nārāyaṇa in the form of a fish. They praised his melodious, universal form, his embodiment of knowledge and fearlessness. They honored him as the moon, sun, and the winds, dwelling within all waters, with beautiful eyes, seeking his refuge and asking for protection. They declared that the universe is pervaded by his infinite form, and that nothing exists apart from him. The sky, moon, fire, and mind are all forms of his ancient body. Even if they lacked devotion, they begged forgiveness, recognizing that by him the world shines. They described his divine form as contradictory—most fearsome, yet with a sweet voice, like a mountain. They prayed for peace, acknowledging his intense radiance and unfailing nature. Out of fear, they sought his refuge, recognizing that nothing ancient embodied exists in the world apart from him. Thus praised, the Lord abiding in the waters assumed his form and took up the Vedas, along with the Upaniṣads and scriptures. As long as the Blessed Lord remains in his own form, the world exists; when he is in the immutable, all dissolves into him, but when in the mutable, it grows. Śrī Varāha continued: Having created all the worlds, the Lord, sustainer of beings, ceased, and creation flourished upon the earth. As creation grew, all the ancient gods worshipped the Person called Nārāyaṇa with various sacrifices. On all the islands and in all regions, the gods, full of faith and performing great sacrificial rites, worshipped Hari, wishing to please him and make him their object of worship. For many thousands of years, they sought to please him, and at last, the god, satisfied, appeared before them. He manifested with many arms, bellies, mouths, and eyes, towering like the peak of a great mountain. The Lord of gods spoke: "Tell me, what is to be done? Speak your wish, best of gods, your boon." The gods replied, "Conquer, O Govinda of great power! By your boon, O Lord, we gods exist. Even in the world of men, apart from you, no one else exists." The Rudras, Ādityas, Vasus, Sādhyas, Viśvedevas, Aśvins, Maruts, and the ancestors—all sought refuge in him, the universal form, and asked to be made worthy of worship. Thus addressed, Hari, the great lord of yoga, promised, "I will make you all worthy of worship," and then vanished. The gods returned to their own eternal abodes, and the Supreme Lord, praised by them, assumed a threefold nature. Having become the threefold sustainer of the world, Maheśvara worshipped the sattvic, rajasic, and tamasic forms, each established in three ways. With the sattvic aspect, one should recite the Vedas and worship the gods with sacrifice. Keśava, having become a part of himself, also acts through the rajasic aspect. Thus, the creation and sustenance of the worlds unfolded, guided by the Lord's will and the devotion of the gods, establishing the eternal order.