With his face strangely altered, Shiva approached Uma and declared, “O goddess, I choose you as my bride.” But Uma, accomplished in yoga, immediately recognized that it was Śaṅkara himself who had come. With a heart pure and filled with compassion, she welcomed him graciously, offering water for washing his feet and for his reception, and serving him a honeyed beverage. Uma worshipped him with fragrant flowers, for she was devoted to brahmins and held dear among them. With humility she spoke, “O lord, I am not independent; my father is the head of the household. Only he has the authority to give me away. I am a maiden, O best of brahmins. Go and ask my father, the imperishable lord of mountains. If he gives me to you, O Brahmin, then that is proper for me.” Thus, the blessed god, still in his altered form, approached the king of mountains. “O king of mountains, give me your daughter,” he requested. The king, though recognizing him as the imperishable Rudra even in his strange guise, was afraid and troubled by the threat of a curse. He replied, “O Lord, I do not disregard Brahmins or gods on earth. But listen, O wise one, to what was decided before. A svayaṃvara will be held for my daughter, with Brahmins honored. Whomever she chooses herself there, he will be her husband.” Hearing these words, the bull-bannered Lord of great mind returned to the goddess and said, “Devi, your father has permitted a svayaṃvara. There, you will choose your own husband; whoever you select will become your spouse. So, after taking leave, I will go. O beautiful-faced one, how could you abandon one so handsome and choose someone unworthy?” Uma reflected on his words and on the feeling placed in her heart by Rudra. She replied, “Let your mind not waver. I will choose you; there is nothing surprising in this. Or, if you have any doubt about me, O Brahmin, right here and now, O greatly fortunate one, I choose you in my heart.” She took a garland in her hands, stood there, placed it on Śambhu’s shoulder, and said, “You are chosen by me.” The blessed god, chosen by the goddess, spoke to an ashoka tree nearby, as if reviving it with his words: “Because I have been chosen by you with this most auspicious garland, you will be free from old age and become immortal. You will have any form you wish, bear flowers at will, grant desires, be dear to me, adorned with all ornaments and flowers, and bear all flowers and fruits. You will be able to consume all foods, taste like nectar, possess all fragrances, and be firmly beloved among the gods. You will be fearless and content in all worlds. Your hermitage, renowned as Citrakūṭa, will be greatly revered. Whoever comes here seeking merit will obtain the fruit of an aśvamedha sacrifice. And whoever dies here will go to the world of Brahma. And whoever here, endowed with discipline, properly relinquishes the life-breaths, he, united with the austerity of the Goddess, becomes the great Lord of Hosts.” Having spoken thus, the Lord, creator of the worlds and master of all beings, took leave of the daughter of Himavat and vanished. The Goddess, when that divine, immeasurable-souled one had departed, became intent from that very place and manifested herself upon a rock. She, intent upon that Lord, the great ruler of the worlds, shone not, like the moonless night, dispirited at that time. Then, the daughter of the mountain heard the cry of a distressed child near the hermitage, by a lake filled with water. There, Shiva himself, the god of gods, had assumed the form of a child for the sake of play and was seized by a crocodile in the middle of the lake. Resorting to yogic illusion, the cause of the world’s manifestation, he took that form in the midst of the lake and cried out, “Save me, someone!” His mind was overcome by the crocodile. “Alas, what misery! I am but a child, my hopes and desires unfulfilled. I am going to my end in the jaws of this wicked crocodile. I do not grieve for my own body, though seized by the crocodile and greatly afflicted. I grieve for my ascetic mother and father, who, hearing that I have been seized by the crocodile and have met my end, will be overcome with longing. Their beloved only son, their sole child, will surely give up their lives. Alas, what terrible suffering! I, a child, not yet initiated, will perish, seized by the crocodile from within.” Hearing the sound of the distressed and excellent child, the Goddess arose and went to where the brahmin boy was. She saw, with a face like the moon, the beautiful boy caught in the mouth of the crocodile, trembling and helpless. The illustrious king of crocodiles, seeing the Goddess approach, seized the boy and swiftly went to the middle of the lake. As he was being dragged away, the radiant boy uttered a cry of distress. The Goddess, seeing the boy seized by the crocodile, spoke in anguish, “O king of crocodiles, mighty one, release this only child! O great-fanged, swift and terrible one, let him go at once!” The king of crocodiles replied, “O Goddess, whoever first approaches me on the sixth day is my food, as ordained long ago by the creators of the worlds. This one, O highly fortunate daughter of the mountain, on the sixth day, has surely been sent to me by Brahmā. I will not release him by any means.