To you, who are beyond all manifestation of existence and non-existence, who are the eternal cause of the great, the one of universal form, who is ever-born—endless homage is offered. You, who are born in countless ways in the world, who possess immense power, to you we bow again and again: to Rudra, to Nīlarudra, to Kadrudra, to Pracetas. Salutations to the One who is Time itself, who takes the form of Time, who grasps the very limbs of Time; to the most generous God, to the blue-throated One, our repeated obeisance. To you, the highest of all, the constant destroyer of the gods’ enemies, the supreme savior and deliverer—we bow over and over. We pay homage to the tawny-haired god, to Śambhu, the Supreme Self, the benefactor of gods and all beings. Again we bow to Śambhu, to the wrath of Pārvatī, to the one who assumes Rudra’s form, to the matted-haired and dark-throated Lord. To the golden One, the Great Lord, the illustrious blue-throated One, to the One whose body is smeared with ashes, to the Lord of skulls and the staff—we bow again and again. Salutations to the short One, the tall One, the dwarf; to the fierce trident-bearer, to the terrible One, we bow repeatedly. To the formidable One, the One of terrible form, the One who delights in terrible deeds, to the slayer at the forefront and the slayer from afar—we bow. To you who bear the bow, the spear, the mace, the plough; to the discus-bearer, the armored destroyer of demonic deeds—our salutations. To the immediate One, to the One of immediate form, to the One just born, to the leftward One, to the left-formed, to the left-eyed One—we bow. To the One of human form, to the sole Supreme Person, we bow. To the Giver of the aims of human life, to the Lord, the Supreme Creator, the Ruler—we bow to you again and again. To Brahmā, to the One of Brahmā’s form, to you who are directly Śiva, who have assumed the forms of Viṣṇu and Narasiṃha, the Maker of the universe, we bow. You, Lord, who slew Hiraṇyakaśipu with your own sharp nails, together with many demon lords, for the world’s welfare—our homage. Assuming the lion’s womb, you trouble the entire world; O Lord of gods, whatever must be done here, do that—be present here. Fierce among the wicked, our controller, yet auspicious for us, you take the form of Kālakūṭa and others—protect us who have taken refuge in you. O Lord of the universe, for you, even purity itself is a sport; with the mere opening and closing of your eyes, creation and dissolution take place. If you open your eyes, O Brahman, there is no destruction; but if you do not, O Śiva, we are tormented by the immeasurable radiance of Hari. For the welfare of all worlds, you wish to destroy this essence. Thus entreated, the god, smiling, spoke to the assembled gods. The Lord granted them safety, saying, “I will slay him.” Then Indra, together with the gods, bowed down and departed as they had come. The blessed Brahmā and the other foremost gods also left. Then Mahādeva arose, assuming the wondrous form of Śarabha. He went to the edge where the proud, beast-devouring Narasiṃha stood. Śarabha, honored by the gods, took the life of Narasiṃha. Then, Narasiṃha, becoming a man from a lion, departed in due order; thus praised by the gods at that time, he went on his way. Whoever recites or hears this excellent hymn to Śarva attains the world of Rudra and rejoices there with him. Now, a question arose: How did the great god, the cause of the universe’s destruction, assume the terrifying and deformed form called Śarabha? What courage did he display in that act? Eager to know, the gods requested the story in full. Moved by compassion, the Lord resolved in his mind to reveal all. To destroy that fierce energy known as Narasiṃha, the supreme Lord Rudra remembered mighty Vīrabhadra for this purpose. Rudra himself, taking on the Bhairava form—the very cause of the great dissolution—appeared at once, laughing before the assembled hosts. With the chief gaṇas, roaring with loud laughter, leaping here and there, he was surrounded by countless, extremely fierce forms of Narasiṃha. Encircled on all sides by such heroes, dancing with joy, playing, and joined by steadfast ones like Brahmā and others, as if with balls, he stood resplendent. Surrounded by others never seen before, honored by heroes, his three eyes shone like the fire at the end of an age. His matted locks were adorned with the blazing crescent moon, his two sharp fangs resembling the twin forms of the crescent. His eyebrows, like fragments of Indra’s bow, arched fiercely as he deafened the quarters with his mighty roar. Terrifying, with a beard as dark as a raincloud or collyrium, wondrous to behold, he whirled his trident with both unbroken hands. Vīrabhadra, the blessed and heroic one, approached and asked, “What is the reason for this remembrance, O Lord?” “Command me, O Lord of the world, let your favor be shown. Even the gods are struck with fear at this untimely terror, O Bhairava.” “That Narasiṃha-fire blazes forth; pacify him, who is hard to approach. Appease and instruct him at first—why does he not become calm? Then, reveal my supreme state, the subtle Bhairava, by withdrawing the gross with the gross radiance and the subtle with the subtle. Bring the face and the skin, O Virabhadra, by my command.” Thus instructed, the chief of the hosts, Vīrabhadra, stood ready, composed in tranquil form, prepared to do the Lord’s bidding.