When the thousand-eyed Indra and the generous bestower of boons had departed, the devoted sage Śilāda, filled with longing, turned his heart wholly to the worship of the great god Bhava. He sought to please him through intense and unwavering austerity. So deep was his devotion and so steadfast his focus on the highest that a thousand divine years slipped by for Śilāda as if they were but a single, wondrous moment. As time passed, Śilāda’s body became shrouded in an anthill, his flesh hidden beneath swarms of insects and red creatures with sharp, needle-like mouths. His body, stripped of flesh, blood, and skin, was left untouched—like a wall—only the bones remaining. It was in this state of utter renunciation that Śaṅkara, the great Lord, regarded him. Moved by Śilāda’s devotion, the enemy of Kāma, Lord Śiva himself, reached out and touched the sage. In that very instant, all the fatigue of the twice-born Śilāda vanished. Pleased by such extraordinary austerity, the glorious Śaṅkara appeared, surrounded by his attendants and myself, and declared, “I am satisfied with your penance.” Then Śiva spoke kindly to the great-minded sage, “O Śilāda, what is the purpose of your austerity? I shall grant you a son who is all-knowing and accomplished in the meaning of all the scriptures.” Overwhelmed with joy, Śilāda bowed low before the Lord of gods, praising him with a voice choked with emotion. Addressing Soma, the one adorned with the moon, he said, “O Lord, God of gods, destroyer of Tripura, Śaṅkara, I desire an unborn, deathless son, O most excellent one.” Śiva, pleased by this request, recalled how, in ancient times, the supreme Lord Rudra had been worshipped by Brahmā, ascetics rich in austerity, and the foremost of sages and gods, all seeking his incarnation. Śiva said, “I shall become your son, unborn and named Nandi; you shall be my father, O sage, just as Brahmā is the father of the worlds.” Having spoken thus, and seeing the sage standing there in reverence, Soma, radiant as the moon and well pleased, vanished on the spot. Having received this supreme blessing from Rudra, Śilāda, filled with delight, made his way to the great sacrificial ground, shining as the foremost among those who know sacrifice. By the command of Śambhu, I was born there before, radiant like the fire at the end of an age. At that very moment, clouds poured forth rain, and celestial beings, kinnaras, siddhas, and sādhyas sang joyously in the sky. As I became the son of Śilāda, Upendra showered flowers down from above. When the gods beheld me—radiant as the sun at the end of time, crowned with matted hair, three-eyed, four-armed, a boy holding trident, axe, and mace—they marveled. I was a child bearing a thunderbolt, with thunderous fangs, worshipped by the wielder of the thunderbolt, adorned with thunderbolt earrings, fierce, and with a roar like a raincloud. All the gods, beginning with Brahmā, Indra, and the great sages, sang my praises. Music resounded everywhere, and the hosts of apsarases danced in joy. The seers, filled with happiness, praised me with great Śaiva mantras drawn from the Ṛg, Yajur, and Sāma Vedas, bowing down with reverence. Present there were Brahmā, Hari, Rudra, Śakra, Śiva and Ambikā in person, Jīva, the radiant Moon, Bhāskara, the Wind, and Fire; also Īśāna, Nirṛti, Yakṣa, Yama, and Varuṇa, all the Viśvedevas, the Rudras, and the mighty Vasus. Goddesses too appeared—Lakṣmī, Śacī, Jyeṣṭhā, Sarasvatī, Aditi, Diti, as well as Śraddhā, Modesty, and Fortitude. Nandā, Bhadrā, Surabhī, Suśīlā, Sumanā, Vṛṣendra, Dharma, and the son of Dharma—all surrounded and embraced me, praising me with devotion. Śilāda, my father, beheld this wondrous sight. Overwhelmed with joy, he bowed down and praised me, his own son, the bestower of wishes, saying, “O Lord, God of gods, Three-eyed one, my imperishable one—since you are the protector and guardian of the worlds, what more need be said? My son is all-pervading. Unborn one, I bow to you, source of the universe, Grandfather, father, son, great Lord, teacher of the worlds. Child, child of great fortune, protect me, Supreme Lord. Because I have been gladdened by you, O Lord of gods, you are called Nandī by name. Therefore, gladden me, O Nandin. I bow to you, Lord of the universe. Be gracious—my parents have today attained the world of Rudra, O mighty one. O Nandin, since the great Lord has descended, my birth in this world has truly borne fruit.” He continued, “Since my son has descended for my protection, O Lord of gods, Lord of Nandī, I offer you my homage. Son, protect me, mighty-armed one, God of gods, teacher of the world. Considering you as my son, O Lord of Nandī, whatever I have spoken—may that be forgiven by you, for you are to be praised by gods and demons. Whoever recites or hears what has been spoken by my son, or causes the twice-born to hear it with devotion, rejoices together with me.” Thus, having praised his young son and bowed with great respect, Śilāda, steadfast in vows, called out to all the sages: “Behold, O sages, my imperishable great fortune. Because Nandī, the Lord, has descended in the sacrificial arena, who in the world, whether god or demon, is equal to me? This Nandī, who was born here in the sacrificial ground, is for my benefit.” My father, delighted beyond measure, after bowing to the great Lord, quickly returned to his own hut, as a poor man who has found a treasure. When I arrived at the hut of Śilāda, O great sage, I then abandoned my divine form and assumed a human one.