In reverent awe, the gods extolled Śiva, declaring him the great god, beyond description, all-knowing, free from affliction, and the universal form with myriad eyes. Ever-auspicious and untouched by suffering, he shone with the radiance of ten million suns, resembled ten million moons, and blazed like ten million fires of dissolution. He was the lord of the twenty-sixth principle, the originator of the world, the great-grandfather of nature, the giver of boons, and the self-born abode of all beings. The Vedas themselves proclaimed him as their very essence, and those who truly understood the Vedas recognized him as such. Though he was of many forms, the gods confessed that what Śiva had accomplished in the world remained beyond their sight; he alone was the source of all—the hosts of demons, gods, humans, and everything that moves or stands still. With hearts full of devotion, they pleaded, “Protect us, O Śambhu; there is no other refuge.” Having destroyed the foremost of the demons, Śiva’s māyā left all beings bewildered. Like waves and billows in the ocean, which are subdued by the very water that supports them, so too were gods and demons alike subdued by Śiva’s power. The gods declared that whoever, rising purified in the morning, recited or heard this sacred hymn would attain all their desires. Thus, praised by the gods and by Viṣṇu’s recitation, Maheśvara, Soma, smiled and accepted the hand offered by Nandi, embracing Soma. Śaṅkara then gazed upon the gods and spoke in a deep, resonant voice: “O lords of the gods, now I have understood this divine task. The power of Viṣṇu’s illusion, the wisdom of Nārada, and the unrighteousness of the Daityas are now clear to me. O excellent gods, I shall accomplish the destruction of the three cities.” With these words, the gods, along with Brahmā, Indra, and Upendra, assembled before him. Hearing the Lord’s resolve, they bowed and praised him. Meanwhile, the goddess, beholding Śiva, was filled with wonder. With a playful lotus, she gently struck Vṛṣadhvaja and said, “Behold, Lord, your son, six-faced and radiant like the sun, is playing.” She invited Śiva to see his son, the best among sons, adorned with auspicious ornaments—crowns, armlets, earrings, and beautiful bracelets. The child wore anklets, concealed garments, a girdle around his waist, many golden bells, and leaves of the aśvattha tree. He was decorated with flowers from the wish-fulfilling tree, lovely locks, necklaces inlaid with lotus-hued gems, and brilliant armlets. Pearl necklaces shone like the full moon upon him, and his tilakas gleamed brightly. His form was marked with saffron and other powders, created from sacred ash; his face was a cluster of lotus blooms. His eyes were beautiful and auspicious, adorned with various collyriums lovingly applied by the mothers for his welfare. By Gaṅgā, the Kṛttikās, and especially Svāhā, he was addressed; thus, the Mother of the World spoke to Śiva. Īśāna, drinking in the nectar of Skanda’s face, could not find satisfaction, nor did he recall the gods troubled by the Daityas’ weapons. Embracing and smelling Skanda, Śiva danced joyfully, exclaiming, “My son!” The playful child, the Lord who removes suffering, also danced. The other lords of the gaṇas joined in the dance, and by Śiva’s command, the entire three worlds danced for a moment. All the nāgas danced, as did the gods led by Indra. The gaṇas praised Skanda, and the mothers rejoiced. Flowers showered from above, the Gandharvas and Kinnaras sang, and, having drunk the nectar of the dance, Pārvatī and Parameśvara, along with Nandi and the lords of the gaṇas, were deeply satisfied. Then Nandi, together with Ṣaṇmukha and the mountain king’s daughter, entered the divine abode. Bhava, whose form was like a raincloud, entered as one cloud merges into another. At the doorway, the gods stood beside the wise Lord, offering praise to Mahādeva, though their hearts were somewhat anxious. Looking at one another in confusion, some murmured, “We are sinners,” while others lamented, “We are unfortunate.” Some of the lords of the gods said, “The Daitya chiefs are fortunate,” others claimed, “This is the fruit of their worship,” and yet others denied it. Amidst their voices, Kumbhodara of great brilliance struck the gods with his staff. Seized by fear, the gods fled, crying out in distress; some sages and other gods fell to the earth. Sages like Kaśyapa, seeing the Lord of gods and their enemies, exclaimed, “Ah, such is the power of fate!” Some other twice-born said, “Because of misfortune, our task is unfinished,” and, with only a little devotion in their hearts, uttered, “Salutations to Śiva.” Then Kapardī, the sage Nandi, beloved of Mahādeva, bearing trident, garland, club, earrings, bangles, and mace, mounted the beautiful white bull and, by the Lord’s command, set out. Seeing Nandi, Kumbhodara also bowed his head and quickly went with him. Nandi, radiant atop the bull, became the banner of the bull. Accompanied by his hosts, the commander of the gaṇas, Bhava, moved as if upon a cloud, spanning ten yojanas, adorned with strings of pearls. The white parasol from the mountain shone like the sky, and within it was a garland, auspicious and made of pearls. It shone upon the Lord’s head like the Ganges descending from the heavens. Then, seeing the chief of the gaṇas, the auspicious divine drums resounded, marking the grandeur of the moment.