The insect inside a fig thinks the fig is the whole universe. But how many such figs hang on trees, and how many such trees stand in the nine continents? We think this is our universe, yet countless such cosmic eggs exist beyond counting. Upon the body of the Cosmic Being, these are as innumerable as hairs. Crores of such cosmic forms are contained in His belly. And yet He is Nanda's child, the little Mukunda, who calls Himself the infant of supreme bliss. Such is the unfathomable divine play, and Says Tuka, by the grace of Brahmananda, it becomes knowable.