O wise one, listen as I recount the wondrous workings of the cosmos, as revealed in the sacred teachings. There are two things of supreme merit for humankind, dispelling the fear of sin: the celestial waters of the Ganga and the divine ritual bath. Yet, above all, it is the water released by the clouds that nourishes every living being. This rain, O twice-born sage, sustains all plants and is truly the nectar of life itself. Through this life-giving water, all varieties of plants flourish, reaching their full growth, maturing, and bearing fruit for the nourishment of creatures everywhere. Guided by the scriptures, people use the bounty of these plants to perform the prescribed sacrifices day after day. In doing so, they not only fulfill their duties but also nourish the gods themselves. Thus, the entire cycle—sacrifices, the Vedas, the classes of society beginning with the twice-born, the hosts of gods, and all groups of beings—is sustained by rain, for it is rain that gives rise to food. And this rain, O best of sages, is itself produced by the Sun. Now, know that the fixed star Dhruva, the Pole Star, serves as the steadfast support for the Sun. The celestial being known as Shishumara, who upholds Dhruva, is of the very nature of Narayana. In the heart of Shishumara abides Narayana himself, the primeval and eternal one, sustaining all beings. Turning to the heavenly bodies, behold the chariot of Soma, the Moon. It is bright as jasmine, with three wheels, and ten horses are yoked to it—five on the left and five on the right—as it moves across the sky. The stars, each following their ordained path, are attached to this chariot by the swift and fixed Dhruva. Their waxing and waning mirror the course of the Sun’s rays. Just as the Sun’s horses are yoked once for a whole kalpa, so too are the horses of the Moon, having arisen from the waters. When the Moon, diminished and its nectar drunk by the gods, needs replenishing, the radiant Sun fills the single remaining digit with a single ray. Thus, the portion of the Moon consumed by the gods is restored each day by the Sun, who is called the thief of water. Within half a month, the nectar and ambrosia contained in the Moon is gathered, and the gods—who subsist on this nectar—drink it, thereby preserving their immortality. Indeed, thirty-three thousand three hundred and thirty-three gods, along with thirty-three others, partake of the Moon, lord of the night. When only two kalās remain, the Moon enters the orb of the Sun, dwelling in the ray called Amākhyā, and thus the new moon is remembered. Throughout day and night, the Moon first enters the waters, then dwells within the plants, and gradually proceeds to the Sun. Therefore, whoever cuts plants or drops even a single leaf while the Moon is present in the plants incurs the grave sin of killing a Brahmin. When only a small portion, the fifteenth part of the Moon, remains in the afternoon, the hosts of ancestors worship its lowest portion. The remaining two kalās, which are pure nectar and ambrosia, are drunk by the ancestors from the Moon. This nectar and ambrosia, released from the Moon’s rays at the new moon, gives the ancestors supreme satisfaction for a month, filling them with contentment—the Saumyas, Barhishads, and Agnishvattas, these three kinds. Thus, in the bright fortnight, the gods are nourished, and in the dark fortnight, the ancestors, as the plants, filled with cool, nectarean particles, sustain them both. By bringing forth plants and herbs, the Moon nourishes humans, cattle, and insects alike, its brightness and delight spreading life everywhere. Now, consider the chariots of the planets. The chariot of the son of the Moon, Venus, is formed from wind, fire, and material substances, yoked with eight tawny horses, swift as the wind. With a canopy and a yoke, drawn by horses born of the earth, adorned with banners and attendants, the great chariot of Venus is thus equipped. The splendid chariot of Mars is golden, yoked with eight horses of ruby and red hue, born of fire. Jupiter rides a golden chariot yoked with eight white horses, standing at the end of the rainy season and moving from sign to sign. Saturn’s chariot is yoked with dappled horses born of the sky; slow-moving Saturn rides it in his measured course. Svarbhānu’s eight horses are gray like bees, always yoked together, carrying his chariot without interruption. Rāhu, released from the Sun, approaches the Moon at the lunar junctions and returns to the Sun at the solar junctions. Similarly, the eight horses of Ketu’s chariot are swift as the wind, their color like chaff-smoke, reddish as lac-dye. Thus, O fortunate one, I have described to you the nine chariots of the planets; all are bound to the Pole Star by reins of wind. The abodes of the planets, stars, and constellations are all fastened to the Pole Star, and revolve in their proper courses, drawn by the rays of the wind. As many as there are stars, so too are there rays of wind, all bound to the Pole Star, causing it to revolve as they move. Just as drops of oil spinning a wheel make it turn, so do all the luminaries, driven by the wind, revolve in their courses. Like the turning of a firebrand wheel, the luminaries move, set in motion by the wheel of wind—hence the wind is called Pravaha, the bearer of the stars. The region called Shishumara is where the Pole Star stands. Listen, O best of sages, to its arrangement. Whatever sin one commits by day is released upon seeing Shishumara at night; and as many stars as are situated in the Shishumara in the sky, for that many years, and even more, one may live. Below it is Uttānapāda, known as the lower jaw; Yajña is the lower part, and Dharma is established at the head. In its heart abides Narayana; the Ashvins are at the forefeet; Varuna and Aryaman are at the hind thighs. Thus, O sage, the cosmic order is revealed, with all beings, gods, ancestors, and planets bound together in a grand, harmonious design, sustained by the eternal presence of Narayana.