Whoever sings the wondrous festival of Hari in the presence of the gods and brahmins, that person—equal to the peerless lord of the hosts—will, after departing this life, surely attain happiness. Likewise, O best of brahmins, whoever listens to or recites this sacred hymn is honored by the gods in all worlds, just as the king of immortals is revered. Now, hear what transpired next. When the great god had entered the house and was seated upon an excellent seat, Manmatha, crooked and cruel in his intent, resolved to strike the god. This wicked one, given to misconduct, with an evil mind and lowest among his lineage, who tormented all the worlds and whose very form was a covering over every limb, appeared there. He, who created obstacles for sages and their vows and observances, took the form of Cakra and arrived with his consort, Rati. Then, O brahmins, the lord of the gods, seeing this aggressor, turned his third eye upon him, casting a glance full of disdain, intending to strike him down. From that divine eye, a fire arose, bearing thousands of garlands of flames, and in an instant, it burned up Rati’s husband and his attendants. Consumed by fire, suffering and in agony, Manmatha cried out piteously in a distorted voice, seeking to appease the god, before falling to the ground. His body scorched and tormented, Manmatha—the tormentor of the worlds—fell unconscious in a moment. Witnessing her husband’s destruction, Rati was overcome with grief. She lamented piteously, her heart stricken with sorrow, and earnestly begged both the goddess and the god for compassion. Moved by her distress and knowing her deep compassion, the two gods, full of mercy, looked kindly upon her, comforted the sorrowful one, and spoke these words: “O blessed one, your husband is indeed consumed by fire and will not be reborn here; yet, even without a body, he will accomplish all his tasks. But when the blessed Vishnu, son of Vasudeva, is born, then his son will become your husband.” Hearing this boon, Kāmā’s wife, her face now radiant, went joyfully to her desired place, her fatigue gone. After burning Kāmā, O brahmins, the bull-bannered god rejoiced with Umā on Mount Himālaya. They delighted together in beautiful caves, among lotus-filled ponds, in hidden grottos, and by delightful waterfalls and forests of yellow-flowered trees. On lovely riverbanks frequented by Kinnaras, on the peaks of the king of mountains, in lakes and pools, in delightful groves resounding with many birds, at holy fords with sacred waters, and in the hermitages of sages—everywhere, in these sacred and enchanting places adorned by Vidyādharas and attended by Gandharvas, Yakṣas, and celestial beings, the three-eyed god enjoyed himself with the goddess. Surrounded by gods led by Indra, sages, Yakṣas, Siddhas, Gandharvas, Vidyādharas, chief Daityas, and many other diverse beings, Śaṃbhu found joy on that mountain. There, the Apsarases danced, the lords of gods sang, the joyful Gandharva hosts played divine instruments, and some swiftly praised the best of gods. Thus, accompanied by his powerful hosts—equal to Indra, Yama, and Agni—the god who destroyed Bhaga’s eye did not leave the mountain at that time, remaining there for the pleasure of the goddess. Standing together with her, the blessed one, destroyer of desire, performed certain acts. The sages, curious, wondered, “What did Mahādeva do?” On the peak of Himavat, for the sake of the goddess’s delight, the blessed one repeatedly caused laughter among his hosts of various forms. He delighted the goddess, whose forehead bore the crescent mark, enjoying himself with noble, wise, and auspicious beings capable of assuming any form. Then, the supreme goddess approached her mother, who was seated on a wondrous, shining golden seat. Beholding Satī, the goddess, arriving in her divine form, Menā—the beloved of Himavat—honored her faultless daughter with a splendid seat and spoke to her: “After a long time you have come today, O daughter with auspicious eyes. Tell me, are you lacking amusements, though you are united with your husband in play? Those who are poor and without shelter, O Umā, they play as your husband does, O auspicious one.” Hearing her mother’s words, the goddess was not pleased; endowed with great patience, she said nothing. Released by her mother, she returned to the god and spoke: “Lord, master of gods, I will not remain on this mountain. O radiant one, make another dwelling for me among the worlds.” The god replied, “O goddess, whenever I have spoken to you about a dwelling, you have never chosen any other place to live, O Devi. Now, O beautiful one, you yourself seek another dwelling; why do you search for it, O goddess? Tell me, O one with a pure smile.” She answered, “Today, O lord of gods, I went home to my great-souled father, and there, in solitude, my mother spoke to me about worldly matters. Having worshipped me with seats and offerings, she said: ‘O Umā, your husband is always poor in amusements, O auspicious one.’ He plays, but the play of the gods is not like this. O Mahādeva, you delight with various hosts, but this displeases my mother, O bull-bannered one.” The god, smiling and wishing to amuse the goddess, replied, “Just so, there is no doubt—why were you angry? For Krittivasa is indeed unclad and dwells in cremation grounds. I have no fixed abode; I wander in forests and mountain caves, surrounded by naked attendants, O lotus-eyed one. Do not be angry with your mother, O goddess; your mother spoke the truth. There is no relative on earth equal to a mother for living beings.” Thus unfolded the divine play and the gentle exchange between the goddess and the great god, full of warmth, wisdom, and compassion.