The Lord, creator of the worlds and master of all beings, bestowed a gracious blessing: “You shall be fearless and content throughout all the worlds. Your hermitage, which will be known as Citrakūṭa, shall become famous and greatly revered. Whoever comes here seeking merit will obtain the fruits equal to those of an aśvamedha sacrifice, and whoever dies here will ascend to the world of Brahma. Moreover, anyone who, with discipline, properly relinquishes their life-breaths here, united with the austerity of the Goddess, shall become the great Lord of Hosts.” Having spoken these words, the Lord took leave of the daughter of Himavat and vanished from her sight. The Goddess, left alone after the departure of that divine, immeasurable-souled one, became deeply intent and manifested herself upon a rock at that very place. Her mind and heart fixed upon that great ruler of the worlds, she shone not, but rather seemed dispirited, like the night without a moon. As she dwelled there, the daughter of the mountain suddenly heard the cry of a distressed child, coming from near the hermitage, by a lake filled with clear water. There, the god of gods, Śiva himself, had assumed the form of a child for the sake of divine play. In the middle of the lake, he was seized by a crocodile. Resorting to his yogic illusion, the very cause of the world’s manifestation, he had taken this form and now cried out in distress. “Save me, someone!” the boy called, his mind overcome by the crocodile’s grip. “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 and greatly afflicted. I grieve for my ascetic mother and father, who, upon hearing that I have been seized by the crocodile and have perished, will be overcome with longing. Their beloved only son, their sole child, will surely cause them to give up their lives. Alas, what terrible suffering! I, a child not yet initiated, will perish, seized by the crocodile from within.” Hearing the anguished cries of this excellent child, the Goddess rose and hurried to the lakeside. There she saw, with a face like the moon, the beautiful boy caught in the jaws of the crocodile, trembling and helpless. The illustrious king of crocodiles, seeing the Goddess approach, seized the boy more tightly and swiftly retreated to the middle of the lake. As he was dragged away, the radiant boy cried out again in distress. Seeing this, the Goddess, her heart anguished, spoke to the crocodile: “O king of crocodiles, mighty one, release this only child! O great-fanged, swift, and terrible one, let him go at once!” The crocodile 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.” The Goddess then pleaded, “By the supreme austerity I performed on the peak of the Himalayas, release this child, O king of the Grahas; salutations to you.” But the crocodile answered, “Do not waste your austerity, O goddess, O auspicious-faced maiden; do as I say, and thus you will attain liberation.” She responded, “O lord of the Grahas, quickly tell me what is blameless among the virtuous; let that be done without doubt, for Brahmins are dear to me.” The crocodile demanded, “Whatever austerity you have performed, whether little or supreme, grant it all to me at once; then you will attain liberation.” The Goddess agreed: “All the merit I have accumulated since birth, O great Graha, I give to you; release the child, O mighty Graha.” At her words, the Graha blazed forth, adorned by that austerity, and became as difficult to look upon as the midday sun. With a satisfied heart, he spoke to the Goddess, sustainer of the world: “O goddess, what is this act of yours, so firmly resolved, O great-vowed one? Even the acquisition of austerity is difficult; its renunciation is not praised. You yourself should take back your austerity, O slender-waisted one, and this child as well. I am pleased by your devotion to Brahmins, so I grant you a boon.” The great-vowed Goddess replied, “Even with my body, O Graha, I must protect the Brahmin with utmost care; I must regain my austerity, but the Brahmin cannot be taken again. Having firmly resolved, the liberation of the child has been accomplished; the highest austerity is not to be withheld from Brahmins, who are esteemed by me as the best. Having given, I do not take back, O lord of the Grahas, what is ordained for you; no one should reclaim what has been given to a Graha. This has been given by me to you; I do not take it back again. Let it abide in you, and let this child be released.” Hearing this, the Graha praised her, released the child, and bowed to the Goddess; shining like the sun, he vanished. The child, freed by the Graha on the bank of the lake, also disappeared, as if a wealth of objects had been obtained in a dream. Considering the loss of her austerity, the Goddess, daughter of the king of the Himalayas, once again began to perform austerity, steadfast in discipline. Knowing her desire, Śaṅkara himself spoke: “O Brahmin, do not undertake austerity. This austerity, O goddess, O great-vowed one, has been given to me by you; by that, it will become inexhaustible for you a thousandfold.” Thus, having obtained the boon of supreme, inexhaustible austerity, the Goddess stood, joyful and delighted, awaiting her own choice of husband. Whoever always recites this account of the child-like deeds of Śaṃbhu, upon departing from the body, becomes purified and attains the status of Gaṇeśa, equal to Kumāra. In due course, on the broad slopes of Himavat, crowded with hundreds of palaces, the self-choice ceremony of the daughter of the mountain took place.