The great sage began his teaching, declaring that the Purusha is truly Mahadeva, the supreme Shiva, the all-pervading Lord. Meditation, he said, is contemplation upon Shiva alone. Turning to the fourfold path, he addressed his virtuous listener: by careful examination and consideration, one understands that the cause of worldly existence is samsara, while liberation comes from release. The fourfold division of contemplation has been described for yogis, and though many kinds of meditation are known, all ultimately unite in the supreme Lord. He explained further: it has been taught without doubt that Rudra resides in Raudrī, Indrī in Indra, Saumya in Soma, and Nārāyaṇī in Nārāyaṇa. By considering everything—in the sun, in fire, and everywhere—one should establish, in thought, the distinction: “She is I, I am He,” in this twofold manner. Without this understanding, one is not a true devotee; such contemplation cannot be Brahmanic. Therefore, O Brahmin, first meditate on all that moves and does not move as pervaded by Brahman. One should then abandon the distinction between moving and unmoving, and give up attachment and aversion, the attainable and unattainable, what should be done and what should not be done. For those who are not fully content, the Brahmanic state cannot be attained; it is not otherwise. Thus, the order of inner worship has been described. Those who perform inner worship should be honored with salutations and respect; even if they are deformed or misshapen, the speakers of Brahman must not be reviled. The wise should not judge those who perform inner worship, for those who revile them out of ignorance will suffer distress. Just as the sages of old once reviled Rudra in the forest of Daru, so too, the knowers of Brahman must always be served and saluted. Whether freed from caste and stage of life, or devoted to them, all are worthy. At this point, the listener expressed a desire to hear about what happened long ago in the Daru forest, concerning the forest-dwelling ascetics, whose souls were purified by austerity. He asked: How did the Lord Nīlalohita, assuming a strange form, with his seed held upward and clad only in the directions, come to the Daru forest? What happened there concerning Rudra, the Supreme Self? What did the God of gods do? Hearing these words, the blessed son of Śilāda, best among those who know the essence of the scriptures, smiled gently and began to speak. He recounted that the sages, along with their wives, sons, and sacrificial fires, performed severe austerities in the Daru forest to please the God of gods. Rudra, the Lord of the universe, the bull-bannered, the matted-haired, the supreme Nīlalohita, was pleased by their efforts. Desiring to know the knowledge characterized by action among the dwellers of the Daru forest, the Lord, for the sake of examination, approached them with faith and playfulness. Śaṅkara, wishing to establish knowledge characterized by renunciation among those whose minds were set on action, assumed a strange form: naked, with uneven eyes, appearing bewildered, two-armed, dark-bodied, he entered the divine Daru forest. The blessed Lord, exceedingly beautiful, with a gentle smile, displayed the play of his eyebrows and sang, arousing the god of love in the minds of the women. Again and again, he sprinkled the group of women, greatly increasing their passion with his exceedingly charming form. Seeing this strange man in the forest, colored blue and red, the women—even those devoted to their husbands—followed him with respect. At the entrances of their huts, their garments and ornaments loosened, they moved restlessly; having received a smile from his lotus-like face, those dwelling among the trees followed him. Some women, seeing Bhava, their eyes rolling with intoxication, lost all outward modesty and made gestures with their eyebrows. Others smiled, their faces bright, garments slipping and girdles loosened, and began to sing. Some brahmin women, seeing him at that time, their new silk garments slipping, threw off their bangles in excitement and went to their relatives. One woman, not recognizing him, her garment fallen and cloth loosened, intoxicated, wandered among the branches and boughs, as did others. Some sang to him, some danced, and some fell to the ground; others sat down like elephants, and some spoke to the best of brahmins. Looking at each other with smiles, they embraced all around, blocking Rudra’s path and displaying their skills. Some asked, “Who are you?” while others invited him to sit. With joyful hearts, they questioned him: “Where are you from? Please be gracious.” Some, their hair and garments loosened, fell down in confusion; even the devoted wives, in the presence of their husbands, acted so under the illusion of Bhava. Seeing and hearing the actions and words of these women, the imperishable Lord—whether auspicious or inauspicious—the Supreme Lord remained silent. The brahmins, seeing the group of women and Shankara in that state, spoke extremely harsh words, the great sages. All their austerities were destroyed by Shankara, just as the stars in the sky are dispelled by the light of the sun. It is heard that, by the curse of a sage, even Brahma, the great soul, lost the source of his prosperity, and sacrifices came to destruction. By the curse of Bhrigu, Vishnu, of supreme power, was made to take ten births and was always made sorrowful. Even Indra, the knower of dharma, once had his testicles cut off by the sage Gautama, who, enraged, cast them down to the earth. By a curse, the Vasus had to dwell in the womb, and by the curse of the sages, Nahusha became a serpent. Thus, the sage narrated the events in the Daru forest, and the profound lessons that arose from the actions of Rudra and the reactions of the ascetics and their families.