Between the realms that are artificial and those that are not, there exists Maharloka—a world remembered for its unique nature. At the end of each kalpa, Maharloka becomes empty, but it does not perish entirely; it endures, awaiting renewal. O Maitreya, I have described to you the seven worlds above and the seven nether regions below. Together, they form the vast expanse of the Brahmāṇḍa, the cosmic egg. This cosmic egg is encased all around—sideways, above, and below—just as the seed of a wood-apple is surrounded on every side by its shell. The egg itself is enveloped by water, which is ten times its size. Beyond the water, all the elements surround it, and outside them, fire forms another encircling layer. Fire is then encased by air, air by space, and space by the principle of elements. Space itself is surrounded by the great principle, and these seven coverings, each one greater than the last, enclose the cosmic egg. Encompassing the great principle is Pradhāna, established beyond all. Pradhāna is endless, its measure unknowable, and its extent truly immeasurable, O sage. Because it is the source of all, this Prakṛti is supreme. There exist thousands upon thousands of such cosmic eggs—hundreds of crores and hundreds of millions—each encased in these coverings. Just as fire pervades oil within sesame seeds, so does the Self, endowed with consciousness and self-awareness, pervade Pradhāna. Both Pradhāna and the Self, as the essence of all beings, are sustained by the power of Viṣṇu and the great intellect, and are inherently dependent. The cause of their distinction and dependence is the power that stirs them at the time of creation, O wise one. Just as wind, when mixed with water, supports hundreds of droplets, so too does the power of Viṣṇu sustain Pradhāna and the Self. And as from the original seed arise roots, trunks, branches, and other seeds, so too do other seeds originate from the first. From those, others arise, and from them yet others, O sage; all follow the characteristics and causes of those before them. Thus, from the unmanifest, the great principle and others are born; from them, the specific elements arise, and from those, gods and other beings; from them, their sons, and from their sons, further descendants. Just as a tree is not diminished by the sprouting of its seeds, so too, the creation of beings does not lessen the source. Proximity, space, and time are causes for the growth of a tree; in the transformation of the universe, the Blessed Hari alone is the cause. As in a grain of rice, the root, stalk, leaves, sprout, stem, sheath, flower, milk, and grains all manifest when the proper causes for growth are present, so too do the husks and grains appear. In the same way, through various actions, the gods and others, having received the power of Viṣṇu, come forth into manifestation. And Viṣṇu is the Supreme Brahman, from whom the entire universe arises, in whom the world exists, and into whom it will ultimately dissolve. That Brahman, the supreme abode, is the highest state beyond existence and non-existence, by whom all this—moving and unmoving—is pervaded and from whom it arises. He alone is the root-prakriti, the manifest form, and the universe itself; into him all things dissolve, and in him they abide. He is the doer of actions, he is worshipped as the sacrifice, and he is also the fruit of that action. All the means—such as the ladle and so on—nothing exists apart from Hari. Śrī Parāśara continued: The form of the Lord in the heavens, shaped like a dolphin and composed of stars, is that of Hari. Dhruva is situated at its tail. As this form revolves, it causes the moon, the sun, and the other planets to revolve; the stars follow it in their rotation, like a wheel. The sun, moon, stars, and planets are all bound to Dhruva by bonds made of wind, and thus remain fixed in their positions. That form of the luminaries in the sky, called the dolphin-shape, is said to be Nārāyaṇa; he himself is the support of the abodes, in his own heart. The son of Uttānapāda, having worshipped the Lord of the world, became that star; Dhruva is established at the tail of the dolphin. Janārdana is the support of the dolphin, and the overseer of all; the dolphin is the support of Dhruva, and the sun is established in Dhruva. This entire world, with gods, asuras, and humans, is supported by that arrangement. Listen carefully, O Maitreya, to how this is so: The sun, in eight months, draws up the waters, which are of the essence of sap. Then he rains, and from that water comes food, and from food, the entire world is nourished. The sun, with his sharp rays, draws water from the world; then the moon nourishes it. The moon, through channels made of wind in the sky, disperses it into the clouds, in forms of vapor, fire, and wind. The clouds do not lose that water, for it comes from them; the waters in the clouds, driven by the wind, fall down, and, having acquired the transformation caused by time, O Maitreya, they become pure. O sage, the divine Sun takes up water of four kinds: from rivers, oceans, the earth, and from living beings. The radiant Sun also draws up the waters of the celestial Ganga, and, as if in a cloudless sky, immediately casts them down to earth with his rays. O best of twice-born, a mortal whose sins and impurities are washed away by contact with that water does not go to hell; such a bath is divine. The water that falls from the sky when the Sun is visible and there are no clouds is the water of the celestial Ganga, cast down by the rays of the Sun. Know that the water which falls from the sky when the Sun is seen among the stars, from Krittika onward and in the uneven constellations, is Ganga water, poured down by the guardian elephants of the directions. And the water that falls from the sky during the conjunctions of paired stars, cast down by the Sun, is all taken up and dispersed by the rays of the Sun. Thus, O Maitreya, the cosmic order is sustained by the power of Hari, in whom all rests and from whom all arises.