With wisdom and compassion, a voice counseled, “Avoid quarrels and hold fast to honesty; let us await the outcome of this dream and the unfolding of time.” Yet, as these words reached the sons of Daksha’s daughter, many whose hearts were filled with anger and jealousy turned away, and their path led toward destruction. The Asuras, perceiving their own impending ruin and enveloped by misfortune, gazed at one another with eyes blazing with wrath. Fate, ever powerful, took hold of the Danavas who dwelt in Tripura, and they abandoned truth and righteousness, turning instead to unrighteous ways. Their hearts grew hard: they began to hate virtuous Brahmins, ceased worshipping the gods, and no longer honored their teachers. Anger flared among them, and they quarreled with one another, mocking their own sacred duties and insulting each other, speaking only of themselves. No longer did they show respect to their elders, instead raising their voices loudly; even when honored, they remained silent, and suddenly would be overcome by tears and longing. At night, they ate curds, parched grain, milk, and wood-apple fruits, sleeping covered and leaving remnants of food behind. After passing urine, they neglected to wash their feet before purifying themselves, and lay down on beds, disregarding the practices of cleanliness. Fearful, they shrank away like mice from cats. After approaching their wives, they did not purify themselves, acting shamelessly in secret. Once known for good conduct, the dwellers of Tripura now became known for bad conduct, oppressing gods and ascetics alike. Even when restrained by Maya, they pressed on toward destruction, seeking quarrels and harming Brahmins. They laid waste to the beautiful forests—Vaibhraja, Nandana, Caitraratha, Ashoka, Varaashoka, and the forest that flourishes in all seasons. Heaven itself, the abode of the gods, and the sacred forests of ascetics, once belonging to the gods, were destroyed by these enraged ones. Shrines and hermitages lay in ruins, worshippers of gods and Brahmins were scattered, and the world was assailed by the wicked kings among the immortals, like crops devoured by swarms of locusts. In this time, when the impious, corrupt, and wicked Daityas prevailed and the worlds and the forests of ascetics were being overthrown, a great terror spread. The sky resounded with the roaring of the Daityas, and all creatures trembled in fear. The three worlds, bewildered and seized by terror, were plunged into darkness. The Adityas, Vasus, Sadhyas, Pitris, and the hosts of Maruts, all gripped by fear, sought refuge with Brahma, the grandsire. Approaching him as he sat upon a golden lotus, they bowed together and addressed him—he who has five faces and four heads. “Protected by your boon, O sinless one, the Daityas who dwell in Tripura now oppress us. Command your servants accordingly. Just as swans scatter before the clouds or deer flee from lions, so do we wander in fear of the Daityas, O Grandsire. We have even forgotten the names of our sons and wives as we are driven about by these Daityas. The divine dwellings are destroyed, the hermitages ruined, all by the Daityas, blinded by arrogance. If you do not quickly protect the world, which is overrun by their violence, it will be left without gods, without men, and without hermitages.” Hearing their plea, Brahma, the lotus-born grandsire, his face radiant like the moon, replied to the gods, including Indra. “The boon of fearlessness that I granted the Daityas has now reached its end, just as I previously declared. Their stronghold, Tripura, must be destroyed—not by a shower of arrows, but by a single arrow. Among you, O best of gods, I see no one who could, in a single attack, destroy that city with its Daityas. Tripura cannot be destroyed by one of little power; except for Mahadeva, the great lord, the progenitor, no one can accomplish this. Therefore, if you and the others together beseech Hara, the destroyer of sacrifices, he, the god, will destroy Tripura. There is a barrier, ancient and vast, a hundred yojanas in length; yet just as it can be destroyed by Bhava in a single blow, so too, when the time is right, all these can be annihilated in a single moment.” Distressed, the gods resolved, “Let us go,” and together with Pitāmaha, they entered the assembly of Bhava. There they beheld Bhava—the lord of past and future, dweller of the mountains, wielder of the trident—together with me and the great-souled Nandin. They saw the unborn god, shining like fire, his eyes like blazing fire-pits, radiant as a thousand suns and fires, adorned with brilliant flames. His face, gentle as the moon and shining with its splendor, was both blue and red. Approaching him, the gods praised Śambhu, the lord of cows, giver of boons, and husband of Pārvatī. They offered salutations: “To Bhava, to Śarva, to Rudra, to the giver of boons, to the eternal lord of beasts, to the fierce one with matted hair. To the great god, the formidable, Tryambaka for peace, Īśāna, destroyer of fear, slayer of Andhaka. To the blue-necked, the formidable, the creator praised by the creator, destroyer of Kumāra’s enemies, father of Kumāra. To the red-hued, the smoky, the excellent, the fierce, the ever blue-crested, the trident-bearer, the one who rests divinely. Salutations to the serpent, the three-eyed, the golden-semened, the inconceivable, the husband of Ambikā, praised by all the gods.” Thus, with reverence and hope, the gods sought the mercy and might of Mahadeva, the only one who could bring an end to the tyranny of Tripura.