Even the profoundest insights of the wise about the nature of the self, Vasiṣṭha reflected, are but half-truths—for here, in his own life, they seemed to unravel. Śakti, his beloved son, was gone, and yet he remained. Adṛśyantī, Śakti’s devoted wife, grieved deeply: “How hard is my heart, O foremost sage,” she lamented, “that I can remain here even for a moment, having lost my husband, who was as dear to me as life itself.” She clung to Vasiṣṭha for support, as a tender creeper clings to a mighty tree, and though bereft of her husband, she endured—immortal in her suffering, yet miserable in her solitude. Witnessing the sorrow of their daughter-in-law, Vasiṣṭha and his wife, wise and compassionate, resolved to return to their hermitage. With great difficulty, the blessed Vasiṣṭha and his wife entered their home, unseen, lost in thought. Despite her grief, Adṛśyantī, steadfast in her devotion, managed to preserve her pregnancy, determined to continue the lineage of her husband. In the tenth month, as Arundhatī once bore a powerful son, so too did Adṛśyantī give birth to a radiant child. She brought forth her son as Diti had borne Viṣṇu, as Svāhā had borne Guha, as the wife of Agni had received a son from the fire-stick, and thus was Parāśara, son of Śakti, born into the world. At the moment of Parāśara’s birth, Śakti was released from his suffering and attained equality with the ancestors. Dwelling among them, Śakti shone with his brothers, like the sun among the Ādityas, a beacon among sages. The ancestors rejoiced at Parāśara’s birth: grandfathers and great-grandfathers danced, and the best of Brāhmaṇas celebrated his arrival. Those who spoke of Brahman danced upon the earth, the gods rejoiced in heaven, and celestial beings, beginning with Puṣkara, showered flowers from the sky. Even in the cities of the Rākṣasas, the twice-born raised a tumultuous sound, and the sages in their hermitages felt a surge of joy. Parāśara’s birth was like the sun emerging from the cosmic egg, like the four-faced Brahmā arising from a mass of clouds, as the sun rises in the sky. Yet for Adṛśyantī, both happiness and sorrow mingled, as she gazed upon her son and remembered her lost husband, much as Arundhatī had once felt. Seeing her radiant son Parāśara, the young mother, overwhelmed with emotion, wept and fell to the ground. With tear-filled eyes and a gentle smile, she praised her newborn son, who was already honored by hosts of gods and demons for his wisdom and purity. She cried out, “O son of Vasiṣṭha, 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, behold your six-faced son with his brothers, just as Maheśvara once saw his own, surrounded by his attendants, his face beaming with joy.” Vasiṣṭha, the best of sages, heard her lament and spoke gently to his daughter-in-law, “Do not weep.” By his command, the noble lady of Vasiṣṭha’s line set aside her grief and cared for her child, though she herself was still young and her eyes soft as a fawn’s. One day, Parāśara, seeing his mother seated without any auspicious ornaments, distressed and virtuous, her eyes brimming with tears, addressed her: “Mother, without your ornaments, your sinless body does not shine. Tell me, why is this so? As the night is dark without the moon, so too are you without your ornaments. Mother, why do you sit thus, as if bereft of your husband? O beautiful one, you must tell me.” Hearing her son’s words, Adṛśyantī remained silent, neither uttering anything auspicious nor otherwise. But Parāśara, illustrious son of Śakti, asked again: “Mother, tell me, where is my mighty father? Speak, speak!” Hearing this, Adṛśyantī was overcome with grief. She wept bitterly and replied, “Your father was devoured by a Rākṣasa,” and then collapsed in sorrow. Vasiṣṭha, too, upon hearing his grandson’s words, fell to the ground in grief, and so did Arundhatī, the ascetics of the hermitage, and all the great sages with Vasiṣṭha. Parāśara, wise and deeply moved, heard from his mother’s lips the fate of his father. Tears filled his eyes as he declared, “Having worshipped the Lord of gods, the ruler of the three worlds and all that moves and does not move, I will, in a moment, show you our father, mother—this is my resolve.” Hearing these auspicious words, Adṛśyantī, amazed and smiling through her tears, encouraged her son, “This is true, my son—perform the worship.” Vasiṣṭha, wise and compassionate, understood Parāśara’s resolve and addressed his grandson: “O best of sages, your resolve is fitting, O virtuous one; yet listen well—you should not bring about the destruction of the world. For the removal of the Rākṣasas, worship the Lord of all. Remember, O son of Śakti, what fault would be yours if the three worlds were destroyed?” Thus instructed by Vasiṣṭha, Parāśara, the wise son of Śakti, resolved upon the destruction of the Rākṣasas. Bowing reverently to Adṛśyantī, Vasiṣṭha, and Arundhatī, he fashioned a temporary liṅga of sand in the presence of the sages. He worshipped it with the auspicious Śivasūkta, the Tryambaka hymn, recited the swift Rudra, and the Śiva-saṃkalpa as well. Parāśara also recited the Nīlarudra, the beautiful Rudra, the Vāmīya, the Pavamāna, and the Pañcabrahma hymns. He offered the Hotāra, the Liṅgasūkta, the Atharvaśiras, and the eightfold arghya to Rudra, worshipping the Lord according to the proper rites. With devotion, he prayed, “O Lord Rudra, my mighty father was devoured by a Rākṣasa, together with his brothers, and with blood, O Śaṅkara.