At the moment of Parāśara’s birth, a wave of joy swept through all realms. The ancestors sang; grandfathers and great-grandfathers danced with delight; the most revered Brāhmaṇas rejoiced at his descent. Those who spoke of Brahman danced upon the earth, while the gods themselves danced in heaven. Celestial beings, led by Puṣkara, showered fragrant flowers from the sky in celebration. In the cities of the Rākṣasas, the twice-born raised a tumultuous sound, and the sages in their hermitages felt a surge of happiness. Parāśara’s appearance was likened to the sun emerging from its cosmic egg, or to the four-faced Brahmā arising from a mass of clouds, radiant as the sun in the sky. Yet, for Adṛśyantī—the unseen one—both happiness and sorrow mingled in her heart. She beheld her newborn son and remembered her departed husband, just as Arundhatī, the wife of the sage, once did. Overwhelmed by emotion, Adṛśyantī saw her radiant child, Parāśara, and her throat choked with tears as she fell to the ground. Smiling through her tears, she praised Parāśara, who even as a newborn was wise, sinless, and honored by hosts of gods and demons. She cried out, “O son of Vasiṣṭha, wherever you are, see your sinless son, your own child! You 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 attendants, his face beaming with joy.” Vasiṣṭha, the best of sages, heard her lament and gently spoke to his daughter-in-law: “Do not weep.” By his command, the noble lady of Vasiṣṭha’s line cast aside her grief and lovingly cared for her child, herself young and gentle-eyed like a fawn. Vasiṣṭha saw the young woman seated, without auspicious ornaments, distressed, virtuous, her eyes filled with tears. He spoke tenderly: “Mother, without auspicious ornaments, your sinless body does not shine. Tell me today the reason, for a night without the moon’s disk is dark.” He asked again: “Mother, why are you seated, having abandoned your auspicious ornaments, as if bereft of your husband? O beautiful one, you should tell me.” Adṛśyantī, hearing her son’s words, remained silent, saying nothing, neither auspicious nor otherwise. But the illustrious son of Śakti pressed her: “Mother, tell me, where is my mighty father? Speak, speak!” Hearing her son’s plea, Adṛśyantī was overcome with distress. She wept and finally uttered, “Your father was devoured by a Rākṣasa,” before collapsing in grief. Vasiṣṭha, hearing his grandson’s words, fell to the ground, weeping compassionately, as did Arundhatī, the ascetics of the hermitage, and all the great sages gathered with Vasiṣṭha. Parāśara, wise and tearful, heard from his mother that his father had been devoured by a Rākṣasa. He spoke resolutely, “Having worshipped the Lord of gods, ruler of the three worlds with all that moves and does not move, I will, in a moment, show you our father, mother—this is my resolve.” Adṛśyantī, amazed by her son’s words, smiled through her tears and said, “This is true.” She gazed at him and encouraged, “Son, son, perform the worship.” Vasiṣṭha, understanding Parāśara’s resolve, spoke wisely and compassionately to his grandson: “O best of sages, your resolve is fitting, O virtuous one. Yet listen—you should not bring about the destruction of the world. For the removal of the Rākṣasas, perform worship of the Lord of all. Listen, O son of Śakti, what fault is it of yours if the three worlds are destroyed?” By Vasiṣṭha’s command, the wise son of Śakti resolved upon the destruction of the Rākṣasas. He bowed to Adṛśyantī, Vasiṣṭha, and Arundhatī, then fashioned a temporary liṅga of sand in the presence of the sages. Parāśara worshipped the liṅga with the auspicious Śivasūkta, the Tryambaka hymn, recited the swift Rudra, and the Śiva-saṃkalpa. He 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 him according to proper rite. With devotion, Parāśara prayed: “O Lord Rudra, my mighty father was devoured by a Rākṣasa, together with his brothers, and with blood, O Śaṅkara.” He pleaded again and again, “O Lord, I wish to see my father together with his brothers,” bowing repeatedly to the liṅga. Crying out “O Rudra, Rudra, Rudra!” he wept and fell to the ground. Seeing his devotion, Lord Rudra, Śaṅkara, spoke to the goddess, “Behold the boy, O greatly fortunate one, his eyes filled with tears, absorbed in remembrance of me, devoted to my worship.” The great goddess, Parāśarā, her body overcome by sorrow, her eyes brimming with tears, saw Parāśara engaged in worship, uttering, “O Hara, O Rudra.” Umā, consort of Śaṅkara, spoke to her lord, ruler of all: “Grant him all that he desires; show your favor, O Supreme Lord.” Hearing her words, Śaṅkara, the Supreme Lord, the poison-eater, replied to his noble wife Umā: “I will protect this twice-born boy, whose eyes are like blooming blue lotuses. I grant him the vision capable of beholding my form.” Having spoken thus, the blessed Nīlalohita, surrounded by his divine attendants, the Supreme Lord, attended by Brahmā, Indra, Viṣṇu, Rudra, and others, granted his vision to the wise son of the sage. Upon seeing the Great God, Parāśara’s eyes overflowed with tears of joy, his heart elated, and he respectfully fell at the feet of the Lord.