Having fulfilled his mother’s command, Vajrāṅga stood before Brahmā and spoke humbly: “I have no further business with Indra; my mother’s wish is accomplished. You are the Lord of gods and asuras, and my great-grandfather. I will carry out your will, O God—let Śatakratu be released. Grant that my mind may remain devoted to austerities, undisturbed.” With these words, Vajrāṅga fell silent, and as he stood thus, the Grandfather Brahmā addressed him with kindness: “You have undertaken severe austerities, faithfully following my command. With such purity of mind, you have fulfilled the very purpose of your birth.” Then, the Lotus-born Brahmā, pleased with Vajrāṅga’s devotion, created a maiden with eyes like lotus petals and gave her to him as a wife. He named her Varāṅgī. Having bestowed her upon Vajrāṅga, Brahmā departed. Vajrāṅga and Varāṅgī then withdrew together into the forest to practice austerity. There, the lord of the demons, Vajrāṅga—pure-minded, lotus-eyed, and steadfast—raised his arms and engaged in intense penance for a thousand years. He stood facing downward, enduring the heat of five fires, fasting, and becoming a very embodiment of austerity. For another thousand years, he performed penance immersed in water. As he entered the waters, his wife Varāṅgī, resolute in her vows, remained on the shore, observing silence, fasting, and severe austerities, radiant with spiritual power. But as Varāṅgī practiced her penance, Indra, king of the gods, sought to disturb her. He took the form of a great monkey and created havoc at her hermitage, shaking and scattering her water pots, pitchers, and baskets. Then, as a cloud, he caused a mighty tumult. Next, assuming the form of a serpent, he bound her feet and dragged her far and wide across the earth. Yet, empowered by her austerity, Varāṅgī suffered no harm. Indra, relentless, became a jackal and defiled her hermitage, then, as a cloud again, drenched it with rain, tormenting her with many terrors. Despite all this, Varāṅgī did not abandon her austerity. Believing the mountain itself was at fault for her troubles, she resolved to pronounce a curse. Sensing her intent, the mountain assumed a human form and, fearful, addressed her: “O Varāṅgī, I am not wicked; all beings are meant to serve me. It is Pākashāsana—Indra, enraged—who is behind these disturbances.” Meanwhile, the thousand years of Vajrāṅga’s penance in the water came to an end. Pleased, the blessed Brahmā appeared before him and said, “I grant you all desires; arise, O son of Diti.” Vajrāṅga, treasure-house of austerities, rose from the water, joined his palms, and addressed the Grandfather of all worlds: “May I be free from demonic nature; may my worlds be imperishable; may I delight in ascetic practice, and may my body endure.” Brahmā replied, “So be it,” and returned to his abode. Vajrāṅga, his austerity completed, sought food and his wife, but did not find her at their hermitage. Hungry, he entered the dense forest of the mountain to gather fruits and roots. There he found his beloved Varāṅgī, weeping and distressed, her face veiled in sorrow. Seeing her thus, the lord of the Daityas gently asked, “Who has wronged you, O gentle one, as if seeking death? Or what desire can I fulfill for you? Tell me, beautiful one, without delay.” Varāṅgī replied through tears, “I have been frightened, cast away, struck, and tormented by the fierce king of the gods, again and again, bereft of my protector. Seeing no end to my suffering, I am resolved to abandon my life. Give me my son Tāraka, that I may escape this vast ocean of grief and sorrow.” Hearing this, Vajrāṅga’s eyes blazed with anger. Though mighty enough to retaliate against Indra, he resolved once more to undertake fierce austerity. But Brahmā, understanding Vajrāṅga’s fierce intent, came to him and spoke gently: “For what reason, my son, do you again wish to undertake such harsh discipline? Tell me, O Daitya, what you seek, you who are steadfast in your vows.” Brahmā continued, “The fruit obtained by a thousand years of fasting can be gained in a single moment by renouncing food, when the time is right. For giving up a desire already attained is far more weighty than renouncing an unattained one, O lotus-eyed one.” Reflecting on Brahmā’s words, Vajrāṅga, with joined palms, replied: “As I rose from meditation at your command, I saw my queen, frightened and weeping beneath a tree. Troubled, I asked her, ‘Why are you like this, timid one? Tell me, what do you wish to do?’ She answered, trembling: ‘I have been frightened, cast away, harassed, and tormented by the fierce king of the gods, again and again, bereft of my protector. Seeing no end to my suffering, I am resolved to give up my life. Grant me a son, Tāraka, to rescue me from this vast ocean of misery.’” Thus, moved by his wife’s words and her longing for a son, Vajrāṅga resolved to undertake fierce austerity once more, determined to triumph over the dwellers of heaven.