O dear child, beloved Vasiṣṭha, foremost among Brāhmaṇas and devoted father, a wondrous hymn has now emerged from the lotus-face of your grandson. Know, O sage, that this son of Śakti—your own grandson—is as much mine as he is yours, and he is endowed with great power. Therefore, arise, best of Brahmā’s sons, and set aside your grief. Even while still within the womb, this child is a devoted worshipper of Rudra, intent upon his adoration; by Rudra’s grace, your noble lineage shall be preserved. Having spoken these compassionate words, the Supreme Person, filled with mercy, vanished from the sight of Vasiṣṭha, the tiger among sages. Overwhelmed, Vasiṣṭha, radiant in his splendor, bowed his head to the lotus-eyed Lord. Though the Lord was now invisible, the sage reverently touched the womb of his daughter-in-law. “Alas, son, my son!” he cried, falling to the ground, his heart heavy with sorrow. Seeing Arundhatī, his faithful wife, also wailing in grief, the assembled Brāhmaṇas tried to comfort her. Remembering his own lost son, Vasiṣṭha called out in anguish, “Come, come, my child! O Śakti, behold your son—the upholder of our lineage!” Tearfully, he vowed, “I will come to you, together with your mother, without doubt.” Saying this, the grieving sage embraced Arundhatī. In her pain, Arundhatī struck her own belly with her hand and, as if her sorrow destroyed even her very being, the noble wife of Śakti seemed to vanish, the abode of Śakti lost. She collapsed to the earth, lamenting in her distress. At that moment, both Arundhatī and the great-minded Vasiṣṭha were seized by fear. Quickly, the two elders raised their young daughter-in-law, shaken and anxious, and addressed her with concern: “O bewildered one, why have you struck your womb with your lotus-like hands, as though you would destroy the rare and precious lineage of Vasiṣṭha? Tell us, noble lady, what has led you to such a desperate act?” They continued, “See your own son, the child of Śakti. Taste the nectar of his mouth, for the noble son of the sage is determined to protect this body. Therefore, preserve your life, for the sake of the lineage.” Thus reproaching her, Arundhatī stood by the sage, distressed and agitated, and spoke to Vasiṣṭha: “O virtuous one, the life of this sage rests upon you alone. Protect my life and, as the nurse of this body, do what is beneficial. If I am to preserve the great sage, then whether my body is auspicious or inauspicious, I will keep it somehow. I have experienced both joy and sorrow, and now I am unchaste—there is no doubt, O sage. Grief consumes me, for I am your daughter, O sage.” She continued, her voice trembling: “Ah, I have witnessed something wondrous, yet I am a vessel of sorrow, O Lord. Become the remover of my pain, O Brahman, son of Brahma, teacher of the world. Still, a woman deprived of her husband becomes miserable in this world. Protect me, noble lord, or I will be dishonored. Father, mother, sons, grandsons, and father-in-law—these are not true relatives for a woman; only the husband is the true relative and highest refuge. Even the wisdom of the wise about the self is only half true; even that has failed me, for Śakti is gone, and I remain. Ah, how hard is my mind, O foremost sage, that I survive even a moment, having lost my husband, dear as life itself. Relying on Vasiṣṭha, like a creeper upon a tree, I remain immortal though uprooted; abandoned by my husband, I am left in misery.” Hearing these words of grief, Vasiṣṭha and his wife, wise and resolute, decided to return to their hermitage. With great difficulty, the blessed Vasiṣṭha and his wife made their way back, the virtuous sage entering his dwelling unseen, deep in reflection. Meanwhile, the devoted wife of Śakti, despite her sorrow, somehow preserved her pregnancy, determined to uphold the family line. Then, in the tenth month, she gave birth to a radiant son, just as Arundhatī herself had once given birth to a powerful child. She bore her son as Diti bore Viṣṇu, as Svāhā bore Guha, as the wife of Agni bore a son from the fire-stick; thus was Parāśara born to the wife of Śakti. At that sacred moment, when Śakti’s son descended to earth, Śakti himself was freed from his suffering and attained equality with the ancestors. Dwelling among them, the illustrious Vasiṣṭha shone with his brothers, like the sun among the Ādityas, foremost of sages. Then, joy burst forth among the ancestors: the grandfathers and great-grandfathers danced, and the best of Brāhmaṇas rejoiced at Parāśara’s birth. Those who spoke of Brahman danced upon the earth, the gods danced in heaven, and celestial beings led by Puṣkara showered flowers from the sky. Even the twice-born in the cities of the Rākṣasas raised a tumultuous sound, and the sages in their hermitages felt a surge of joy. Just as the sun emerges from the egg, so Parāśara appeared, radiant as the four-faced one arising from a mass of clouds, as the sun from the sky. For the mother, both happiness and sorrow mingled: seeing her son, remembering her husband, she was overwhelmed—just as Arundhatī, wife of the sage, had once been. Beholding her radiant son Parāśara, the young woman, her throat choked with emotion, wept and fell to the ground. Smiling through tears, she praised her newborn—Parāśara, great in wisdom, sinless, honored by gods and demons alike. “O son of Vasiṣṭha,” she cried, “wherever you are, see your sinless son, your own child! You have abandoned me, sorrowful and longing to see our son in the forest, O lord!” She continued, “O Śakti, see your own six-faced son together with his brothers, just as Maheśvara beheld his own, surrounded by his attendants and beaming with joy.” Hearing the lament of his daughter-in-law, the great sage Vasiṣṭha, moved by compassion, spoke gently to her: “Do not weep.