As dusk descended upon the splendid city of Tripura, the delighted lords—those mighty enemies of the gods—gathered in secret council. Their hearts were filled with joy as they set their spies of love about their duties, preparing for the pleasures of the night. Time after time, the radiant jewel of the heavens—the moon—rose from the eastern peak, driving away the darkness and filling the sky with its gentle, blessed light. The moon appeared serene and majestic, like a swan adorned with lotuses gliding upon a vast lake, or a great lion resting atop a peak of blue lapis lazuli. It shone in the heavens as a gleaming pearl necklace graces the chest of Lord Vishnu, for this moon, born from the eye of sage Atri, bathed the worlds in its cool, nectarean rays, illuminating all with its gentle brilliance. As the moon’s cool beams flooded the city, the Asuras, at twilight, made themselves and their homes ever more charming. Lamps, their flames the color of champaka blossoms and fueled with but a little oil, flickered along the city’s streets, royal avenues, palaces, and houses. In their monasteries, lamps filled with oil burned brightly, and their gem-encrusted homes, overflowing with riches, were illuminated as if planets themselves had appeared at the moon’s rising. The combined glow of moonlight and lamps banished every trace of darkness from Tripura, as if a troubled family’s calamities had been swept away. In that city, during the fresh bloom of evening, the moon laughed down with its bright rays, and the desire-driven Daityas lingered in their splendid homes, reveling in the company of their beloved women. Those among them struck by the five arrows of the Bull-bannered god—Shiva—were now pierced by the god with the fish-banner—Kāma, the god of love. The foremost Asuras and their women, inflamed with passion, became flushed and radiant. The demon women, their hearts stirred, engaged in playful chatter; lutes resounded, and cuckoos sang sweet, intoxicated notes, while Madana, armed with his bow and arrows, churned their hearts with longing. Swiftly, the moon dispelled the night’s darkness, casting a net of cool light across the world. Meeting his beloved Rohiṇī in the sky, the moon established his sovereignty, his radiance supreme. In one home, a noble woman sat at her beloved’s feet, adorning her cheek with a beauty mark, enhancing her already lovely face. Gazing into a round mirror and seeing her radiant reflection, she softly declared, “This is my shining face,” and, recalling the caresses of her lover, she delighted in that sweet memory. Elsewhere, young women, their bodies thrilled and hair standing on end from passion, intoxicated by love, hurried eagerly to their beloveds, just as night rushes to its end at sunrise. One, overwhelmed by delight, drank in her beloved’s presence; another, long in search of her lover, now found joy; yet another, pleased by sweet words, was fully content. The finest among the Asura women, their eyes adorned with collyrium and sandalwood from the cow’s head, shone with enchanting beauty, like golden pitchers brimming with nectar. The Daityas, lips reddened from passionate kisses, delighted in the music of strings within their palaces. Yet, distracted by the playful chatter of the women, their attention wandered once more. Sweet songs, treasures created by Kāma’s arrows, arose in the pleasure gardens. The Asuras and their women performed delightful music, skillfully refining melodies, pleasing their beloveds, awakening them, and bringing joy with each rousing note. As singing continued, anklets and girdles adorned with fresh flowers chimed through the night, mingling with the cuckoos’ calls. Some women, embraced by their lovers, felt their hair stand on end, and tears, lovely as fresh shoots after new rain, budded in their eyes, resembling the earth newly moistened. In moonlit palaces, the noble women, their ornaments ringing sweetly, matched Madana himself in passion. One, exhausted from drinking and longing for her beloved, teased, “Why do you smell my cheek so much? Climb onto my broad, full, high hips, adorned with a golden girdle.” On the moonlit streets and broad avenues, groups of Daitya women moved like stars gathering at dusk around the moon. Amid laughter and the waving of fly-whisks, others swayed with intoxication, their playful smiles accompanied by the subtle sounds of their girdles. The beautiful women, adorned with unfading garlands and joyful hearts, sang with voices as refined as polished metal, while elsewhere, the call of swans echoed from the ponds. The fragrance of their bodies, mingled with the sound of their ornaments, created an atmosphere dear to the arrows of Kāma, breaking the peace of their abodes. Clad in colorful garments, their hair loosened and swaying gracefully, the demon women shone, adorned with splendid attire and ornaments, like the moon among the stars. As they swayed, loosened threads and fallen girdles scattered jewels across the ground beneath the swings, making it as splendid and varied as the moon’s features. In the evening gardens, filled with moonlight and the calls of cuckoos, Kāma himself, his arrows spent, wandered through the demon city. The moon, white as garlands of jasmine, lost its radiance when obscured—just as a wealthy man grows pale when fortune departs. But as the sun, with a disk like heated gold and a reddish charioteer, rose in the sky, it surpassed the moon’s light, striving to cross the darkness-bearing waters. When the thousand-rayed sun rose upon Mount Meru, the host of gods roared like the ocean at the end of the age. Indra, the thousand-eyed Purandara, along with Savitṛ, Varuṇa, and Hara, journeyed to Tripura. These destroyers, fierce and of many forms, advanced with lion-like roars and the thunder of drums. With parasols, drums, and great trees, the divine army moved like a forest stirred by the wind. Seeing Rudra’s immense and fierce army approaching, the lords of the demons were greatly agitated, their hearts churning like the ocean. They seized spears, javelins, tridents, clubs, axes, bows, arrows, thunderbolts, and heavy maces. Grasping their weapons, eyes red with anger, they resembled winged mountains, ready to strike with clouds that shatter peaks at the end of the age’s heat.