Seated in comfort, the great destroyer of Kāma, Lord Śiva, was approached by Pārvatī, the daughter of the mountain king. With gentle curiosity, she addressed him: “O Mahādeva, upon your neck shines something like a mass of dark clouds. What is this radiance that glows there, O Lord, destroyer of Kāma? Please tell me everything properly, for I am truly eager to understand.” Śaṅkara, hearing her sincere question, began to recount an auspicious tale. “At the very beginning,” he said, “a terrible poison arose—blazing forth like the fire that consumes all at the end of time. At its appearance, everyone became downcast, their faces shadowed by despair, for they sensed that the destined end ordained by Brahmā had come upon them. ‘O highly fortunate ones,’ I asked them then, ‘for what reason are you so afraid, your minds so disturbed? Because of this calamity, your lordship has been taken away, O best of gods. In the creation of beings, there is none who can transgress my command—in all matters, whether spiritual, material, or divine. Why then are you seized by such fear, like deer terrified by a lion? Tell me everything properly and quickly.’ At this, the sages, the gods, and the chiefs of the Daityas and Dānavas all spoke together. They described the poison: it was like a serpent, or a black bee, resembling a dark raincloud. It had arisen like Death itself at the end of time, shining with the fierce brilliance of the sun at the end of an age. The poison surged upward, blazing with the fire of time. Even Janārdana, whose body is fair and red, was made dark upon seeing it. Having heard the terrifying words spoken by both the gods and the asuras, I called out, ‘Let all the deities and the ascetics rich in austerity listen! This poison, famed as Kālakūṭa, is like the fire of time. Of this, whether it be Viṣṇu, myself, or all the foremost gods—none are exempt.’ After I spoke thus, the one resembling the lotus-born, Brahmā—the self-born, not born from a womb—began to praise with devotion. He offered salutations: ‘Salutations to the one who holds the Pināka bow, and to the one who holds the thunderbolt. Salutations to the destroyer of the enemies of the gods, whose eyes are the moon, the sun, and fire. Salutations to Sāṃkhya, to Yoga, and to the host of beings. Salutations to the source of the gods, to Rudra, to the god of gods, to the swift one, to the skull-bearer, the deformed, the auspicious, and the bestower of boons. Salutations to the ancient, the pure, the liberated, and the strong; to the foremost, the fierce, the wise, and the one with many eyes. Salutations to the eternal, the non-eternal, and the one who is both eternal and non-eternal; to the conceivable, the inconceivable, and the one who is both conceivable and inconceivable. Salutations to the beloved of Umā, to Śarva, to the one marked with the face of Nandi; to the one of many forms, the shaven-headed, the staff-bearer, and the armored one; to the archer, the charioteer, the controller, and the celibate.’ Having thus offered his praises, Brahmā bowed to the Lord with the beautiful face and spoke: ‘You are subtle, inconceivable through supreme yoga; truly, O Lord Rudra, you do not assume a manifest form. You have been praised with various hymns arising from the Vedas and their branches. O Lord of the past, future, and present, Lord of the worlds, Master of the universe…’ In this way, Lord Śiva recounted to Pārvatī the origin of the dark radiance upon his neck, revealing the profound events and the great praise offered by Brahmā and all the gods in that ancient time.