The virtuous remember, the saints recite, and the sages joyfully chant the divine name, for He is ever devoted to rescuing those who are distressed, helpless, and who have sought refuge in Him. Yet now, a prayer arises: “O Lord, my worship has been hindered by the curse that has befallen my son. O Lord, all authority in the universe was once given by You.” Then Mahadeva spoke, recalling an ancient time in Pushkara, when, through the merit of a hundred Manvantaras of austerity, all things—be it lordship, wealth, knowledge, or valor—were granted. Even the unknown, the hidden, the highest and most difficult to attain, could be achieved. Yet, above all, Mahadeva declared, the power of a devoted wife surpasses the brilliance of all others. Dharma affirmed, “Such is the dharma that You established long ago, O Lord. By the merit of austerities performed for seven Manvantaras, O Supreme Lord—” But the gods, troubled, lamented, “O Mādhava, now, by the curse of a woman, all that has been gained is lost.” Having spoken thus, all stood there, restrained and overcome by fear. Then they were instructed, “Go to the root cause; Janārdana Himself has taken the form of a Brāhmaṇa.” Hearing these words, the gods, their minds delighted and eager, set forth. Soon they beheld the goddess Mālāvatī, steadfast in virtue. She was adorned in garments purified by fire and embellished with a vermilion mark. Her radiance, long accumulated through the great virtue of devoted service to her husband, shone forth. She sat in a yogic posture upon the chest of a corpse, holding a pure crystal rosary between her thumb and index finger. She glowed with the lovely hue of champaka flowers, her lips red as bimba fruit, adorned with jewels. Her broad hips bore a heavy weight; her thighs and breasts were full. Seeing her in such a form, the gods were filled with wonder. Sauti continued: The gods went to the abode of Mālāvatī, bestower of supreme auspiciousness. Seeing them, Mālāvatī, steadfast in her vows, bowed down in reverence. At that moment, a certain Brāhmaṇa boy appeared. He carried a staff and umbrella, wore white garments, and bore a shining tilaka. His body was anointed with sandalwood, blazing with the radiance of Brahman. He sat in the midst of the assembly like the moon among the stars. The Brāhmaṇa spoke: “By what act does the Creator Himself, the maker of the worlds, exist? Here, the all-powerful Śambhu Himself is the destroyer of all the universes. How is the sun, how is the moon, and how is the fire here? O Mālāvatī, in your lap lies a corpse, extremely dried up, O sinless one.” Having spoken thus, the sage became silent in the assembly. Mālāvatī replied, “The gods are pleased, and Hari is pleased, by one who offers flowers and water. O Lord, pay attention to the plea of one afflicted by sorrow. I am the wife of Upabarhaṇa and the daughter of Citraratha. For a divine hundred thousand years, in delightful and charming places, I have dwelled. O beloved, the affection of virtuous women for their husbands is as great as that of all women, O best of sages. Yet suddenly, by the curse of Brahmā, my husband gave up his life. Now, all are engaged in accomplishing their own tasks upon the earth.