After Śiva placed the Moon upon his own crest, he became known as Candraśekhara, the Lord adorned with the moon. Witnessing their beloved husband freed from his affliction, Dakṣa’s daughters were overcome with sorrow once more. Their grief was so deep that they wept loudly, collapsing to the ground and striking their bodies in anguish again and again. With tearful voices, Dakṣa’s daughters lamented, “May we have good fortune, father, for our virtuous husband is gone.” They spoke of the darkness that seemed to engulf the world when their eye—their husband—was no longer with them. For women, they declared, the husband is their sole path, their very life and wealth. Indeed, for women, Nārāyaṇa himself is the husband; their vow and eternal duty is centered upon him. They reflected on the merits of bathing in all sacred waters and making offerings at sacrifices, as well as worshiping the gods, fasting, and performing austerities. Yet, among all relatives, it is the son who is most dear to women. They spoke of the misfortune of women born into wicked lineages, who harbor hatred for their husbands. Whether fallen, sick, evil, poor, or lacking virtue, whether possessing qualities or not, a woman who despises and abandons her husband faces dire consequences. Such a woman is devoured day and night by insects and creatures like dogs, and is reborn as a vulture for ten million births, as a pig for a hundred births, and only after exhausting these fates, if her previous actions allow, may she obtain human birth. With heartfelt longing, they pleaded, “O son of the creator, grant us the gift of a beloved, fulfilling our desires.” Hearing their cries, Dakṣa approached the presence of Śiva. After granting his daughters their blessing, Dakṣa spoke to the compassionate Lord. He said, “For my daughters, their husband is supremely dear—dearer even than life itself. If you do not give my son-in-law, O Moon, as my son-in-law—” Before Dakṣa could finish, the compassionate Śiva replied, “I am not able to give up the Moon, who has sought refuge with me.” Hearing these words, Dakṣa’s anger rose, and he prepared to curse Śiva. At that critical moment, Kṛṣṇa appeared, taking the form of an aged brāhmaṇa. The eternal Brahman bestowed auspicious blessings upon both Dakṣa and Śiva, shining forth in brilliance. The Blessed Lord spoke: “Protect yourself, O Dakṣa; give the Moon to the Lord of the gods. You are the foremost among ascetics, peaceful, and chief among the Vaiṣṇavas. Dakṣa is wrathful, hard to withstand, radiant, and the son of Brahmā.” Hearing Nārāyaṇa’s words, Śaṅkara laughed gently and said, “I am not able to give up the life of one who has sought my refuge. He who abandons one who has sought refuge, out of fear—such an act I cannot do. I am able to give up everything, O Lord of the world, but not my own duty. Whoever always protects dharma, dharma in turn protects him. You are the mother of all, the creator, and, in transformation, the destroyer as well.” Hearing these words of Śaṅkara, the Lord—knower of all hearts—understood. The Moon, now free from disease and shining brightly, departed, forever adorned upon Śiva’s crest. Seeing the Moon still afflicted with consumption, Dakṣa praised Mādhava, seeking relief. Kṛṣṇa, having granted them a boon, returned to his own abode. The Moon, restored and reunited with his wives, sported joyfully day and night, his radiance once again illuminating the heavens.