Upon the golden mountain, which is none other than Meru, the Sun—the very soul of the universe—circles it along with all the planets and starry hosts. Meru, conscious of his own grandeur, regards himself as the foremost among all mountains, thinking, “Of all, I alone am supreme; none in the worlds are equal to me.” Recalling such pride and arrogance, I sighed. But, O mountain, for those strong in austerity, such matters are no cause for concern. I have mentioned this only in passing; now, I shall return to my own abode. Now begins the account of the Vindhya episode, celebrated in the greatness of the Goddess. Sūta narrated: Thus instructed, the supreme divine sage, free to roam as he wished, departed for the world of Brahmā. Once the sage had left, Vindhya was seized by relentless anxiety. He found no peace—his heart was ever sorrowful. “What should I do here? How shall I surpass Meru? I find no peace, nor does my mind become calm.” Thoughts of self-reproach arose within him: “Fie upon my enthusiasm and pride, fie upon my fame and lineage. Fie upon my strength and manliness, and even upon the wisdom of the great ones of old.” Clear thoughts thus stirred in Vindhya’s mind. A resolve formed within him—intent on action, though leading toward fault: “The Sun always circles Meru. That mountain, accompanied by the planets and stars, always exults. I will block his path with my own might.” He considered, “If I obstruct the Sun, how will he circle the mountain? If I block the path of the Sun and the day, what will happen?” With this determination, Vindhya thought, “The proud celestial serpent will surely be humbled.” Steadfast in his resolve, he began to grow, stretching his arms to touch the sky. His lofty, towering peaks spread everywhere, and he stood firm, waiting: “When will the Sun rise? When will I obstruct him?” As Vindhya pondered thus, the night passed, and a pure morning dawned. The Sun’s rays dispelled the darkness from all directions. The Sun, rising from the mountain for his ascent, shone brilliantly, illuminating the sky with auspicious light. The lotus blossomed, the water-lily closed, and all creatures began their daily tasks. The lord of rays, through the divisions of morning, afternoon, and midday, increased the offerings to gods and ancestors, the oblations to spirits, and the prosperity of the divine hosts. Comforting the eastern and southeastern directions, which burned with longing like beloveds parted, the Sun moved onward. Leaving the direction of Fire, he swiftly set out toward the southern quarter. But he could not proceed further. Anuru reported, “O Sun, Vindhya, grown proud, stands blocking the sky. He competes with Meru, desiring the circumambulation you granted.” Hearing Anuru’s words, the Sun began to reflect: “Ah, even the path of the sky is obstructed—how astonishing! Truly, what would a hero not attempt when he stands on a forbidden path? My path for the horses is blocked; fate is indeed stronger. Even Rahu, eager to seize, does not linger for a moment. Even if the path is blocked for a long time, what can a powerful destiny not accomplish?” With the path obstructed, all the worlds, along with their lords, could find no refuge or course of action. All, including Citragupta, know time only by the Sun. Obstructed by Vindhya mountain—what a reversal of fate! When the Sun was blocked by the mountain out of rivalry, the utterance of svāhā and svadhā was lost, and the world nearly perished. The western and southern regions, their eyes closed in sleep, entered into night, while the eastern and northern regions were scorched by intense heat. Creatures died, were lost, destroyed, and perished. The world was filled with lamentation, deprived of offerings to ancestors and gods. The gods, with Indra, were greatly disturbed, asking, “What shall we do?” Then Sūta continued: All the hosts of gods, led by Mahendra, approached Rudra for refuge, with the Lotus-born Brahmā at their head. They worshipped the Lord of gods, the Dweller on the Mountain, adorned with the crescent moon, offering reverent bows, hymns, and splendid praises. The gods prayed: “Victory to you, O Lord, Chief of the Gaṇas, whose lotus is cherished by Umā, Giver of the eight supernatural powers and glories to your devotees. To you who dwell in the play of the great Māyā, Supreme Self, Bull-bannered Lord of the immortals, who abides on Kailāsa. To Ahibudhnya, the Venerable One, Giver of honor to Manu, the Unborn, of many forms, who delights in his own Self, to Śambhu. Salutations to you, Lord of the Gaṇas, God, Lord of the Mountain; Giver of great powers, praised by Mahāviṣṇu. Who dwells in the lotus of Viṣṇu’s heart, devoted to supreme yoga, attainable through yoga, the very essence of yoga, Lord of yogins—salutations. Salutations to you, Lord of yogins, Giver of the fruits of yoga; even to those devoted to giving to the distressed, you are the embodiment of the ocean of compassion. To you who dispel suffering, of fierce power, embodiment of virtues, Bull-bannered, Time itself, and the ender of Time—salutations.” Sūta said: Thus praised by the sacrificers, the Lord of gods, Bull-bannered, spoke with a deep voice, smiling at the best of the gods. The Blessed Lord said, “I am pleased, O gods, O best among men, by this hymn; I will fulfill the desire of you all, O foremost of the gods.” The gods then pleaded, “Lord of all gods, Lord of the Mountain, radiant with the crescent moon, you are the remover of distress—grant us well-being, O mighty one.