At Indra’s command, hosts of Gandharvas and Apsaras gathered, their celestial beauty resplendent, and made their way to the appointed place. Other gods, too, descended from the heavens, each arriving separately, adorned in splendid attire. The air shimmered with the presence of Gandharvas, Yakshas, serpents, and Kinnaras, all mounting their divine vehicles. Amidst this gathering of gods, Indra—the lord of Shachi—stood out, his form shining above all other kings. Invested with authority and sovereignty, Indra joyfully presided over the svayamvara, that sacred event where a bride chooses her groom. The one at the heart of this gathering was no ordinary being: she was the mother of all worlds, of gods and asuras alike, the very cause of the universe’s birth. She was the wife of Shambhu, the wise Purusha, whom the Purāṇas praise as the supreme Prakṛti. Once, angered by Daksha and for the sake of duty, she had left the wise one’s house and now arrived among the dwellers of heaven. Standing upon a celestial vehicle adorned with jewels and gold, her limbs cooled by waving chowries, the goddess seized a garland woven from flowers of all seasons—fragrant and beautiful. With courage and grace, she advanced into the assembly. There, as she stood with the garland in hand among the gods, Indra and the others present, the svayamvara began. At that very moment, out of curiosity and to reveal his divine power, Śaṃbhu manifested as a child with five tufts of hair and lay asleep in her lap. The goddess beheld this wondrous child, recognized his worth, and joyfully took him into her arms. Pure in her resolve and having found her desired husband, she withdrew, cherishing that Lord within her heart. The gods, seeing the mysterious child in the goddess’s lap, were bewildered and asked one another, “Who is this?” Their confusion grew, and in their agitation, Vṛtrahā (Indra) raised his arm, summoning the thunderbolt to strike. But the child’s arm rose and held firm, unmoving. By Śaṃbhu’s divine power, the child was immovable, and Vṛtrahā found himself unable to hurl the thunderbolt or even move. Then Bhaga, the mighty son of Kaśyapa, lifted his blazing weapon, intent on striking, but he too became bewildered. The Lord restrained Bhaga’s arm as well, suppressing his strength, radiance, and power. Even Viṣṇu, shaking his head, looked upon Śaṃkara with frustration, and the other gods, too, grew angry and restless. Witnessing all this, I—Brahma—became deeply disturbed. I turned inward, entering meditation with reverence, and soon perceived the Lord of gods, seated in the lap of Umā. Recognizing the Supreme Lord, I quickly rose with respect, bowed at Śaṃbhu’s feet, and began to praise him, O twice-born. With ancient hymns from the Sāma Veda, filled with auspicious and secret names, I declared: “You are unborn and ageless, O Lord, the creator and all-pervading one, transcending both the manifest and the unmanifest. You are the primordial person, the imperishable Brahman to be contemplated, immortal, supreme soul, Lord, and the great cause. You are the creator of Brahma, the originator of nature, the maker of all, transcending nature itself; and this goddess, Nature, is always the cause of creation for you. Assuming the form of a consort, she has come as the cause of the world—salutations to you, O Mahādeva, together with the goddess. “By your grace and command, O Lord of gods, I have created all these beings—gods and others—yet they are deluded by your yoga-māyā. Bestow your favor upon them, so that they may return to their former state.” Thus, O sages, I addressed the Supreme Lord. Then I turned to all the gods, who remained immobilized, and spoke: “Go swiftly for refuge to Maheśvara, together with me, to the Lord of gods, the supreme, imperishable soul.” Hearing my words, all those immobilized dwellers of heaven bowed mentally to Śarva, their hearts purified by devotion. Pleased with their humility, Maheśvara, the god of gods, quickly restored their bodies as before. As he released his restraint upon the gods, the Lord of gods revealed a wondrous form: three-eyed and radiant. Overwhelmed by his brilliance, the gods closed their eyes. Then, by his grace, he granted them the supreme vision, endowing them with the power to behold his own form. With this divine sight, they beheld the Supreme Lord, all-pervading, bearing the third eye. The gods, led by Śakra, and all the celestial lords gazed upon him in awe. In their midst, the goddess was filled with delight. She placed the garland upon his feet, which shone with immeasurable brilliance, and all the gods cried out, “Excellent, excellent!” in praise of the Lord. Together with the goddess, they bowed with their heads touching the earth. In that sacred moment, O Brahmins, I, along with the gods, addressed him. To Himavat, the great and radiant mountain, I spoke: “You are praiseworthy, worthy of worship and reverence; among all, you are truly great. Since you have such a splendid alliance with Śarva, let this glorious wedding be arranged—why then is there hesitation, O noble one?” After bowing, Himavat replied humbly, “You alone, O god, are the cause of all my prosperity; by your grace, everything has arisen, and you alone are the reason. As for the wedding, let it be as you see fit, O Grandfather.” Hearing the words of the king of mountains, I turned to the Lord and said, “Let the wedding be performed, O god.” Śaṅkara replied, “As you wish, O Lord of the worlds.” At that very moment, O Brahmins, we constructed a city for the wedding of Maheśa, adorning it with every kind of gem—jewels, precious stones, gold, and pearls. Manifest beings came and decorated the splendid city, whose ground was of variegated emerald and adorned with golden pillars, preparing it for the divine marriage.