Absorbed in the constant recitation of the sacred Gāyatrī mantra, Aruṇa, his heart filled with longing and his mind shrouded in darkness, undertook severe austerities. For ten thousand years, he lived sustaining himself solely on droplets of water. After this, for another ten thousand years, he survived on air alone, and then, for yet another ten thousand years, he gave up all sustenance entirely, living without any food at all. As Aruṇa performed these intense penances, a wondrous fire began to emanate from his very body, blazing so fiercely that it threatened to burn the entire world. The sight was astonishing and terrifying. Witnessing this, all the gods were filled with fear and confusion, exclaiming, “What is this? What is happening?” In their terror, all the worlds sought refuge with Brahmā, the creator. Hearing the urgent pleas of the best among the gods, Brahmā—the four-faced Lord—mounted his swan and, accompanied by Gāyatrī, joyfully set out to address the crisis. When Brahmā arrived, he saw Aruṇa reduced to a mere breath, his veins tightly drawn together, his belly shriveled, limbs emaciated, and eyes closed in deep meditation. Yet, despite this frailty, Aruṇa radiated a brilliant light, appearing almost like a second fire. Moved by his devotion, Brahmā spoke kindly, “Good one, choose a boon—whatever your heart desires.” The sound of Brahmā’s words brought immense satisfaction to Aruṇa, as if he were receiving a stream of nectar. Opening his eyes, Aruṇa beheld before him the eternal, lotus-born Brahmā, accompanied by Gāyatrī and bearing the four Vedas. He saw Brahmā holding a rosary and a water pot, engaged in sacred recitation. Rising up, Aruṇa bowed low and praised Brahmā with many hymns. When asked to choose a boon, Aruṇa made his request clear: “Let there not be death for me.” Brahmā, hearing this, began to explain with respect, “Even Brahmā, Viṣṇu, Maheśa, and others have been swallowed by death; what then can be said of others, O best of Dānavas?” Brahmā advised him to ask for a boon that was possible to grant, for wise ones do not insist on the impossible. Respectfully, Aruṇa made another request: “Let my death not come in battle, nor by weapons or missiles, nor from men or women; nor from two-footed or four-footed beings, nor from those of both forms. O Lord, grant me such a boon regarding death. And grant me great strength, by which I may conquer the gods.” Brahmā replied, “So be it,” and, having granted the boon, swiftly returned to his own abode. Empowered and filled with pride from Brahmā’s boon, Aruṇa summoned all the Daityas who dwelt in the netherworld. At his command, they gathered and acknowledged him as their lord. Aruṇa then sent a messenger to Amaravati, the city of Indra, declaring war. Hearing the messenger’s words, Indra, king of the gods, trembled with fear. Quickly, Indra gathered the gods and went to Brahmā’s abode. With Brahmā and Viṣṇu leading, they all proceeded to the dwelling of Śankara (Śiva). There, they deliberated how to destroy their powerful enemy, but at that very moment, the army of demons surrounded the place. Aruṇa, the king of the demons, swiftly invaded the realm of the gods, seizing the domains of the Sun, Moon, Yama, and Agni. By his own ascetic power and ability to assume various forms, he took control over all. Driven from their abodes, the deities fled and sought refuge in the region of Kailāsa. Each god described their suffering to Śankara, and together they deliberated on what should be done. But Brahmā explained the dilemma: “Neither by war, nor by weapons or missiles, nor by men, nor by women, nor by bipeds, nor by quadrupeds, nor by any being of both forms—can death come to him.” The gods were filled with anxiety and helplessness, unable to think of a solution. At that moment, a bodiless voice echoed through the air: “Worship the Lady of the Worlds; she will accomplish your task. If the demon king, absorbed in the recitation of Gayatri, should abandon her, then he will become subject to death.” These words brought great joy to the gods. Hearing the divine command, the gods consulted together and summoned Bṛhaspati, their revered teacher. Indra spoke, “O teacher, go to the demon for the sake of the gods’ welfare; do whatever is needed so that he abandons the Gayatri. We will serve the Supreme Lady through meditation and yoga; if she is pleased, the Blessed Goddess will grant you assistance.” Thus instructed, the gods all went to the Lady of Jambunada, seeking her protection from the terror of the demon. There, they undertook austerities with firm resolve, reciting the seed-mantra of Māyā and devoting themselves to the worship of the Goddess. Meanwhile, Bṛhaspati quickly went to Aruṇa. When the eminent sage arrived, Aruṇa questioned him, “O sage, why have you come here? For what reason and purpose? Speak plainly. I am not partial to your side; in fact, I am your enemy.” Bṛhaspati replied, “The very Goddess whom we serve is the one you worship constantly. Therefore, how could you not be partial to our side?” Hearing these words, Aruṇa was confounded by the power of divine illusion. Puffed up with pride, the mighty Daitya abandoned the supreme mantra, forsaking the Gayatri. At once, his brilliance faded. Having accomplished his mission, Bṛhaspati departed and recounted everything to Indra, wielder of the thunderbolt. All the gods, now satisfied, worshipped the Supreme Goddess. Thus, after much time had passed, the stage was set for what was to follow.