Guided by Brahmā’s instruction, the forest-dwelling sages resolved to worship the Lord according to their means, knowing that sincere devotion would bring success. With minds focused and hearts united, they gathered their sons and relatives, all approaching with joined palms the mighty wielder of the trident. They sought to behold the Lord of the gods, whose vision is elusive for those with unpurified minds. Upon seeing the Lord, all ignorance and unrighteousness were dispelled. After circumambulating Brahmā, radiant with immeasurable splendor, the sages made their way to the Devadāru forest, beginning their worship as Brahmā had taught. They created diverse altars: some nestled in mountain caves, others on secluded, auspicious riverbanks and sandbars. These sanctuaries were adorned in various ways—some with beautiful moss, some with mere trickles of water, some with seats of sacred darbha grass, and some where devotees stood balanced on the tips of their toes. Some sages sat upon wooden mortars, others on stones; some maintained heroic standing postures, while others wandered joyfully like deer. The great-minded sages devoted themselves to austerity and worship. When a full year had passed and spring returned, their steadfastness drew the compassion of the god. In that auspicious mountain during the Kṛta age, the Supreme Lord, pleased by their devotion, appeared in the Devadāru forest. His body was smeared with ashes and dust, naked, marked with unusual signs. He held a blazing firebrand, his eyes red and tawny; sometimes he laughed fiercely, sometimes he sang in wonder, sometimes he danced amorously, sometimes he roared again and again. Wandering through their hermitage, he repeatedly begged for alms, assuming this form by his own power. As the god entered the forest, the composed sages praised him. With water, garlands, incense, fragrances, and accompanied by their wives, sons, and attendants, these highly fortunate ones offered worship. They addressed the Lord with humility: “O God of gods, whatever we have done out of ignorance—by deed, mind, or speech—may you forgive it all, for our actions have been diverse, secret, and profound.” They continued, “O Hara, even for gods like Brahmā and the others, your ways are difficult to comprehend. We do not know your coming or your going, not at all. O Lord of all, Great God, you are who you are—salutations to you! The great souls praise you, O God of gods, O Supreme Lord. “Salutations to Bhava, the Auspicious, the source and cause of existence; to the one of infinite strength and power, to the Lord of beings. Salutations to the destroyer, to the tawny-hued one, to the imperishable and the perishable, to the bearer of the Ganga’s stream, to the support, to the essence of qualities. “To Tryambaka, the three-eyed one, the wielder of the trident; to the god of desire, to the fire-god, to the Supreme Self—salutations. To Shankara, to the one marked by the bull, to the Lord of the hosts; to the staff-holder, to Time, to the one holding the noose—salutations indeed. “To the one foremost in Vedic mantras, who has a hundred tongues—salutations; to all that is past, present, and future, to all that is stationary and moving. O God, from your body this entire universe has arisen; you protect and you destroy it—may all be well with you, be gracious, O Lord. “Whatever a man does, whether from ignorance or knowledge, all of it, O Lord, is done by you alone through your yogic power.” Having thus praised the Lord, the sages, their inner selves delighted, approached with austerity and requested, “May we see you as before.” Then the God Shankara, pleased, assumed his own form and granted them divine sight, revealing to them his three-eyed aspect. With this vision, the sages beheld the God of gods, Tryambaka, and again they offered praises: “Salutations always to the one clothed in the directions, to Death, to the wielder of the trident, to the fierce and terrible one, to the one with a dreadful face. To the formless, to the beautiful, to the one of universal form—salutations to you; to the one with jingling ornaments, to Rudra, to the embodiment of the svāhā call—salutations indeed. “To the one whose body is bowed to by all, who himself bows his own soul; ever to the blue-crested, to the glorious-throated—salutations, salutations. To the blue-throated god, to the one adorned with funeral ash; you are Brahmā among all gods, and among the Rudras, you are the blue-red one. “You are the soul of all beings, called Purusha by the Sānkhyas; among mountains, you are great Meru, among stars, the moon. Among seers, you are Vasiṣṭha; among gods, you are Vasava; among all the Vedas, you are Om, and among Sāman hymns, you are the best Sāman. “Among wild animals, you are the lion, Supreme Lord; among the domesticated, you are the bull, O Blessed One, honored by the worlds. Whatever state exists or will exist in any way, we see you alone therein, just as Brahmā declared. “Desire, anger, greed, dejection, and pride—these we wish to understand; be gracious, Supreme Lord. “At the time of the great dissolution, O God, you composed yourself and placed your hand on your forehead, and from you fire was produced. By that fire, the worlds were surrounded on all sides by flames; therefore, many distorted fires, equal to that fire, exist. “Desire, anger, greed, delusion, hypocrisy, calamity, and all other beings, both immobile and mobile—all arise from you.” Thus, the sages, steadfast in devotion and awe, praised and petitioned the Lord, recognizing his supreme power and the mystery of his forms, and seeking his grace and wisdom.