From the hollow sphere of the Seven Sages high in the sky, I descended one night, O wise one, and found myself in the open space atop a Dāśūra tree. As I sat there, listening intently, a faint voice reached me from the hollow of a tree deep in the forest. It was as soft as the humming of a bee enclosed within a lotus bud. “Listen, O son of great wisdom,” the voice began, “and I shall tell you a remarkable tale, full of wondrous marvels. There is a king of immense valor, renowned throughout the three worlds. His name is Svottha, prosperous and capable of conquering the universe. All the leaders in every realm uphold his commands with reverence, as if bearing the finest crest jewel upon their heads. He delights in daring exploits and wondrous adventures; in all three worlds, no one has ever subdued this great soul. The countless undertakings he initiates, bringing both joy and sorrow, are as innumerable as the waves of the ocean. His strength surpasses even the strongest; no weapon, missile, or fire has ever overcome him, just as the sky cannot be grasped with a fist. Even Indra, Upendra, and Hara do not attempt to imitate his expansive, radiant play of creation—not even in the slightest. He possesses three mighty bodies, capable of bearing the directions, and these stand drawing in the worlds, distinguished as superior, inferior, and intermediate. Born in the vast expanse of the sky, he remains there with his three bodies, like sound, wind, and wings. In that limitless sky, he constructed a city, adorned with fourteen grand avenues and embellished with threefold divisions. The city is rich with garlands of forests and gardens, beautiful with playful peaks, entwined with strings of pearls, and decorated with seven pools. It shines with twin lamps of coolness and warmth, teeming with paths moving upward and downward, and bustling with merchants. Within this exceedingly vast city, the ruler created groups of inhabitants, charming and sheltered. Some were placed above, some below, some in the middle; some perished slowly, others vanished quickly. The city is covered by dark coverings, adorned with nine gates, constantly swept by strong winds, and furnished with many windows. It is illuminated by five lamps, supported by three pillars of white wood, smooth and soft with polished surfaces, crowded with bustling streets. By his own illusion, this king created mighty yakshas as guardians among the inhabitants, always terrifying in appearance. Then, as the waves of enclosure move, the ruler engages in various amusements within the nests, like a bird. With three bodies, he dwells among them, together with the yakshas, delighting in play, and then swiftly departs again. Sometimes, when his mind is unsettled, he wishes, ‘Let me go to some city yet to be created,’ and this wish is unwavering. As if possessed by a spirit, impelled by force, he rises and runs forth; he attains that city, as if fashioned by gandharvas. At other times, when his mind is dull, he desires, ‘Let me go to destruction,’ and by that, he perishes at once. Yet he arises again swiftly, like a great wave from water, acts vigorously, and then again begins with sluggishness. By his own actions, he sometimes becomes distressed, lamenting, ‘What shall I do? I am ignorant, I am unhappy,’ and grieves. Sometimes, joy arises and grows abundant, just as a river swells with the delight of monsoon rains. He drinks, he frolics, he moves, he stretches, he quivers, he shines and does not shine—this radiant one, O son, of great glory, is like a king, lord of the earth, stirred by the wind as the lord of waters.” Then, on a great night in Jambudvīpa, the son asked his father, who was seated at the tip of a kadamba branch with a pure heart: “Who is this, renowned as self-arisen, O father, of excellent form among kings? And what is this that has been spoken to me? Please tell me truthfully. Where will creation occur? Where is its destination in the present? Your words seem contradictory, spoken for the sake of confusion.” The father replied, “Listen, my son, I will tell you as it truly is, so that you may understand the essence of the cycle of worldly existence. This structure of worldly existence, arising from the unreal and spread out as a non-substantial thing, has thus been described by me. The supreme arises from space; intention is called self-arisen. It is born by itself and dissolves by itself. All this world appears as its very own form; it is born when that is born, and when that ceases, it perishes. Brahma, Vishnu, Indra, Rudra, and the others are known as its limbs, just as branches are to a tree or peaks to a mountain. In the empty sky, this threefold world-city is fashioned by it, attaining the state of the Creator merely through the sequence of appearances. Here are spread out these worlds and the fourteen cosmic spheres; here are forests, groves, and a succession of gardens. Here, the playful peaks—Sahya, Mandara, Meru—are found; here, the cool and hot radiances, the moon and sun, and the two lamps, wind and fire. Here, rivers carry pearls rising high like the moving crests of waves stirred by the sun’s rays, and there are shifting garlands of genuine pearls.” Thus, the wondrous story was told, revealing the marvels of creation and the mysteries of existence.