Late one night, a terrible event befell the city of Tripura. Four fierce women, their faces blazing like the fire of wrath, and three formidable mortals entered the city under cover of darkness. These enraged beings, unmatched in their might, slipped into the heart of Tripura, multiplying their forms and entering the bodies of its inhabitants. As they penetrated the cities, a heavy darkness descended, enveloping Tripura and its households as if the entire city had sunk beneath the ocean’s waters. In the midst of this gloom, strange and ominous visions appeared: a beautiful woman riding an owl, another—naked—astride a donkey, women laughing together, and one woman embracing another as a lover. There was also a mysterious being marked by the moon, with four feet and three eyes. One of these terrifying women incited the others, and even I, the king, was roused from sleep by her presence—a vision so dreadful that it shook me deeply. O sons of Diti, such was the dream I beheld. What could this vision mean, and what suffering does it foretell for us Asuras? If you deem me worthy to be your king, and if you seek what is truly beneficial, then listen closely to my counsel and cast aside envy. Abandon desire, jealousy, anger, and spite. Instead, stand firm in truth, self-control, righteousness, and the teachings of the sages. Let us establish peace among ourselves and honor the great Lord; perhaps then this dark vision will pass. Surely Rudra, the three-eyed god of gods, is not angered with us—yet among us Asuras in Tripura, ominous signs of the future are appearing. Let us avoid quarrels, cultivate honesty, and patiently await the outcome of this dream as time unfolds. Yet, O sons of Daksha’s daughter, I tell you this: those among us who are filled with anger and jealousy are already moving toward destruction. Perceiving their impending ruin and surrounded by misfortune, the Asuras looked at one another with eyes burning with wrath. Overpowered by fate, the Danavas of Tripura abandoned truth and righteousness, turning instead to wickedness. They began to hate virtuous Brahmins, ceased worshipping the gods, lost respect for their teachers, and grew angry with one another. Quarrels erupted; duties were mocked, insults hurled, and each spoke only of themselves. They shouted disrespectfully at their elders, ignored honors, wept suddenly, and were consumed by longing. Their conduct deteriorated further: at night, they ate curds, parched grain, milk, and wood-apple fruits, then slept fully covered, leaving food remnants behind. After relieving themselves, they failed to wash their feet, neglecting basic cleanliness, and lay down on their beds without care. Out of fear, they shrank away like mice from cats. After being with their wives, they did not purify themselves, acting shamelessly in secret. Once known for good conduct, the dwellers of Tripura now became the very opposite, oppressing gods and ascetics. Even when restrained by Maya, they moved toward destruction, seeking quarrels and harming Brahmins. They ravaged the sacred groves—Vaibhraja, Nandana, Caitraratha, Ashoka, Varaashoka, and the ever-flourishing forests—along with heaven itself and the abodes of the gods. Shrines and hermitages were laid waste, worshippers of gods and Brahmins scattered, and the world was beset by these wicked kings of the immortals, much like crops devoured by swarms of locusts. When these impious, corrupt, and wicked Daityas gained the upper hand, the worlds and the forests of ascetics fell into ruin. With the sky echoing with the roars of these beings, all creatures trembled in terror, and the three worlds, bewildered and afraid, were plunged into darkness. The Adityas, Vasus, Sadhyas, Pitris, and hosts of Maruts—all fearing for their existence—sought refuge with Brahma, the grandsire. They approached Brahma, seated upon a golden lotus, bowed together, and addressed him—he who bears five faces and four heads. “O sinless one, protected by your boon, the Daityas of Tripura now oppress us. Command your servants, for we wander in fear of these Daityas, just as swans scatter before clouds or deer flee from lions. We have even forgotten the names of our sons and wives in our flight. The Daityas, blinded by arrogance and delusion, have destroyed divine dwellings and ruined hermitages. If you do not quickly protect the world, it will be left without gods, men, or sacred places.” Hearing these pleas, Brahma, the lotus-born grandsire, his face shining like the moon, replied to the gods and to Indra among them: “The boon of fearlessness I once granted the Daityas has now reached its end, as I had foretold. That stronghold of theirs, Tripura, must be destroyed—not by a shower of arrows, but by a single arrow. Yet among you, O best of gods, I see none who could accomplish such a feat in one stroke. Tripura cannot be destroyed by one of little power; only Mahadeva, the great Lord and progenitor, can do this. Therefore, if you and the others together beseech Hara, the destroyer of sacrifices, he will surely destroy Tripura.