Struck by the mighty thunderbolt, the Daitya—whose very body was as hard as Indra’s own weapon—fell to the earth, collapsing like a great mountain shattered by the thunderbolt of the king of the gods. Witnessing the fall of Vidyunmālī, their lord and the pride of their lineage, the Dānavas wailed in anguish, while the leaders of the Gaṇas fled in disarray. Overcome by grief and fury at Vidyunmālī’s death, the clouds themselves seemed to mourn, unleashing a tempest that rained down trees and mountains in a wild storm. The Gaṇeśvaras, pressed under the weight of these falling mountains, were bewildered and helpless, uncertain how to respond—just as the unrighteous are confused when praised. At that moment, the illustrious and powerful Asura named Tāraka appeared, shining forth in the forms of many mountains. The Gaṇas, battered and broken, their heads and faces marred by wounds, looked like serpents subdued by spells. Beset on all sides by Maya’s magical illusions, they wandered about in confusion, making a great clamor, like birds trapped in a cage. Tāraka, mighty among Asuras, unleashed his power, burning the entire opposing army as fire devours dry wood. The Gaṇas were repelled by relentless showers of arrows from Tāraka, and, assailed by Maya’s illusions and Tāraka’s shafts, they became as feeble as trees whose roots have decayed. Again, fire surged forth, threatening planets, crocodiles, serpents, mountains, monkeys, tigers, trees, and all manner of fierce beings. By his illusory power, Maya caused torrents of water, violent winds, and even the limbs of Sharabha to fall upon the enemies. Confused and overwhelmed by Maya’s illusion, known as Taraka, the leaders of the hosts became helpless, unable even to think of action, like senses restrained by a sage from their objects. Assailed by mighty floods, fires, elephants, serpents, lions, tigers, bears, rakshasas, and demons, and bewildered by darkness, they were like those lost in the depths of the ocean. As the leaders of the hosts were being crushed and the gods and demons roared, the foremost among the gods, armed with their weapons, entered the fray to protect their own. Yama, wielding his mace, Varuna, Bhaskara, Kumara surrounded by countless immortals, and Indra himself—lord of the gods—mounted on his white elephant and bearing the thunderbolt, all joined the battle. The lord of the Maruts with his son, the radiant sun with his retinue, and the three-eyed lord, brilliant and powerful—these, intoxicated with might, entered the well-guarded enemy ranks. Just as lordly elephants charge into the forest, as the sun pierces a sky heavy with clouds, or as lions attack a herd of cows in a deserted place, so did the gods assault the demon army. The divine attendants broke through the ranks, scattering the wounded and distressed demons, just as the sun dispels darkness, or fire consumes deep gloom. As the moon soothes the darkness of night, so did the gods pacify the tumult, and as the power of darkness waned, the brilliance of weapons grew ever brighter. A mighty roar, like that of a lion, arose from the guardians of the directions and the leaders of the hosts; in the fierce battle, monstrous, deformed, and limbless beings were shattered, their heads severed, their bodies pierced with arrows. The non-divine beings, struck by the best of gods, sank into the mire like lordly elephants mired in mud. Vajrapāṇi, wielding his thunderbolt, and the mighty Mayuraketu with his spear, pressed the attack. Dharmarāja with his fierce staff, Varuna with his noose, the Yaksha king with his trident, and Sukeśa with his strength and radiance—all engaged in the tumultuous battle. These leaders of the hosts, shining like the gods themselves, their crests gleaming as if anointed with sacred offerings, destroyed the hosts of Danu’s sons, as Indra’s thunderbolts strike with irresistible force. Yet Maya, the master of illusion, pierced Kumara—the son of Uma and protector of the gods—with an arrow, and then spoke to Taraka’s son, the demon known as Taraka. He declared, “Having struck, I shall enter the city, strong with the might of the demon king. Even after rest and renewal, I will return to battle those who come forth. Though our bodies are wounded and pierced, our weapons, banners, armor, and vehicles shattered, we are eager for victory, shining forth with the same determination as the leaders of the hosts and the lords of the worlds.” Hearing Maya’s words from the sky, Taraka, his eyes red with longing for battle, swiftly entered Tripura with the sons of Diti and Aditi, exulting in the prospect of war. Then Maya, master of illusion and bull among the Dānavas, having struck, entered Tripura as swiftly as a dark blue cloud sweeps across the sky. He exhaled a long, hot breath and gazed at the Daityas assembled in the city’s midst, pondering deeply as the destruction of the worlds seemed to draw near, like another embodiment of Time itself. Even Indra, who stands eager for battle, is afraid before him—yet even the illustrious Vidyunmālī has met his end. Maya reflected, “There is no fortress equal to Tripura, yet even this stronghold is now threatened—no fortress can truly guarantee safety. All things, even the strongest fortresses, are subject to the power of Time. When Time is enraged, what could possibly offer protection? Whatever power exists in the three worlds, among all beings, is entirely under the sway of Time; so has the Grandsire ordained. Who could hope to master this boundless and irresistible force? Who could cross over, except the great god Maheśvara? I do not fear Indra, nor Yama, nor Varuṇa, nor Kubera, but the lord of these gods, Maheśvara, is unconquerable. Today I shall display the fruits of sovereignty and supreme power before these assembled heroes. I will create a pond filled with the water of immortality and rare, life-restoring herbs, so that the Daityas may live again, revived by these potent elixirs.” With this resolve, the mighty Maya, foremost among magicians, created by his magic a wondrous pond, as the Grandsire once did with the mango tree. The pond stretched two yojanas in length and one in width, adorned with steps and landings, marvelous in form, like a tale of wonder. It was filled with the supreme water, fragrant with nectar and shining like the moon’s rays, endowed with every virtue, as if it were a noble woman herself.