The assembly, sensing urgency, resolved among themselves, “Let us go swiftly to the great sage Gautama.” Yet, the wise ones present counseled, “First, stay at my house; after that, you must certainly go.” Heeding this, they brought the party to the noble Gautama, whose soul was vast in wisdom. There, Gautama led her—the cow—to the cowshed. But as soon as he touched her, she died instantly. The gathered sages were struck with shock; such a calamity was unbearable to witness, and they voiced their dismay. They declared, “Until then, you must not eat food; we ourselves will go.” Guided by ill fate, they departed to undertake austerities as before. Yet, the root of their misfortune became known, and someone, overcome with anger, pronounced a curse upon them. Because of this curse, they were destined to be born again and again in similar fashion, enduring the same cycle. In their plight, they praised with worldly hymns, much like cows left after the feast is over. The wise urged, “By desire, these two great yogis must be saved from sinful food.” “What should be done for them?” asked Gautama, seeking the counsel of those devoted to virtue. Seeing the best of brahmins bowing before him, Hari—Lord Vishnu—spoke to the lord of cows. “O great god,” he said, “Dharma, born from the Veda, concurs. All of these, along with us, will go even to the hells if need be.” “O bearer of the bull,” they resolved, “we will compose scriptures that bewilder and delude.” At Shiva’s command, Keshava (Vishnu) too composed scriptures meant to lead astray: the Pañcarātra, the Pāśupata, and thousands more of the same kind. As a result, those ensnared by these teachings fell into dreadful hells, again and again, through countless aeons. Yet, a promise was given: “Continue on by my grace, for there is no other deliverance for you.” Accepting this command from the foe of the Asuras, they bowed their heads in reverence. Thereafter, they began to instruct their disciples, openly showing them the fruits of their actions. Śaṅkara (Shiva), for their benefit, undertook alms-seeking together with the twice-born (brahmins). With his matted locks, he wandered, casting a veil of bewilderment over the world. From his own body, he brought forth Rudra as Bhairava, appointing him to restrain the wicked. There he established the Gaṇas, with the gods led by Indra, forming an assembly of divine hosts. Assuming the form of a woman, Śaṅkara constantly served the great goddess. Others too, taking on beautiful female forms, attended upon her. At the entrance, the chief of the Gaṇas stood guard, as before. Desiring to bring Pārvatī, one came to Mount Mandara. But Hara—the unconquerable one—assumed the form of Time and restrained him. The bull-bannered Shiva struck the demon in the chest with his trident. Yet Nandi and his army were overwhelmed by the fierce demons known as Andhakas. Vināyaka, Meghavāha, and Somanandī, born of lightning, joined the fray, armed with tridents, spears, javelins, mountain peaks, and axes. Still, the mighty lord of the demons hurled them a hundred yojanas away. Radiant as the sun at the end of time, these warriors rushed toward Bhairava. Bhairava Rudra fought valiantly, wielding his terrible trident. In a moment of crisis, he sought refuge with the god Vāsudeva—unborn, all-pervading. Vāsudeva stood by the side of the goddess, prepared for the destruction of the enemies of the immortals.