While Varāṅgī, the devoted wife of Vajrāṅga, was immersed in her severe austerities, Indra, the king of the gods, became anxious at her growing spiritual power. Taking the form of a mighty monkey, Indra descended upon her hermitage, intent on disturbing her penance. He caused her water pots, pitchers, and baskets to tremble and scatter in chaos. Not content, he transformed himself into a cloud and shook the entire place with a violent storm. Next, Indra assumed the form of a serpent, coiling around Varāṅgī’s feet and dragging her far away, forcing her to wander the earth in distress. Yet, due to the strength of her austerities, she remained unharmed by his attacks. Undeterred, Indra appeared as a jackal and defiled her sacred hermitage, and once more as a cloud, he drenched her dwelling with relentless rain. In every way, Pākashāsana—another name for Indra—tormented her, hoping to break her resolve. Despite these terrors, Varāṅgī did not abandon her austerities. Believing the mountain itself was to blame for her suffering, she prepared to utter a curse upon it. Sensing her intent, the mountain, fearful and respectful, assumed a human form and appeared before her. With humility, it spoke: “O Varāṅgī, I am not wicked; all embodied beings are meant to serve me. It is Pākashāsana, enraged, who is causing these disturbances.” Meanwhile, the thousand years of Vajrāṅga’s penance came to completion. Pleased with his devotion, the blessed Lotus-born Brahmā appeared before Vajrāṅga, who was still immersed in the waters, and said, “I grant you all desires; arise, O son of Diti.” Vajrāṅga, the lord of the Daityas and a treasure of ascetic power, emerged and, with palms joined in reverence, addressed the Grandfather of all worlds: “May I be free from demonic nature; may my realms be imperishable; may I delight in ascetic practice, and may my body endure.” Brahmā replied, “So be it,” and returned to his abode. Vajrāṅga, having completed his austerity with unwavering discipline, felt hunger and sought his wife, but found his hermitage empty. Overcome by hunger, he entered the dense forest of the mountain. As he searched for fruits and roots, he came upon his beloved Varāṅgī, weeping and distressed, her face veiled by her garment. Seeing her sorrow, Vajrāṅga, lord of the Daityas, gently spoke to comfort her: “Who has wronged you, O timid one? Who, desiring death, has dared this? Or what wish of yours shall I fulfill? Tell me quickly, beautiful one.” Varāṅgī replied, her voice trembling: “I have been frightened, cast away, struck, and tormented again and again by the fierce king of the gods, as one bereft of her protector. Seeing no end to my suffering, I am resolved to abandon my life. Grant me my son Tāraka, that I may escape this vast ocean of grief and sorrow.” Hearing her words, Vajrāṅga’s eyes blazed with anger. Though fully capable of retaliating against Indra, the king of the gods, the great Asura instead resolved to undertake yet another round of fierce austerity, seeking victory over the dwellers of heaven for the sake of his wife and their future son. Sensing Vajrāṅga’s fiery intent, Brahmā, the blessed Lord, appeared before him and spoke gently: “For what reason, my son, do you again wish to undertake such harsh discipline? O Daitya, intent on food, tell me, O great vow-keeper.” Brahmā continued, “The fruit gained by a thousand years of fasting can be attained in a single moment by renouncing food at the right time. The renunciation of an unattained desire is not as weighty as abandoning a desire already attained, O lotus-eyed one.” Reflecting on Brahmā’s words, Vajrāṅga replied with joined palms, his mind focused on austerity: “As I rose from meditation at your command, I found my queen, frightened, distressed, and weeping beneath a tree. I asked her, ‘Why are you like this, timid one? Tell me, what do you wish to do?’ She replied, her voice faltering, ‘I have been frightened, cast away, harassed, and tormented by the fierce king of the gods, again and again. Seeing no end to my suffering, I wish to give up my life. Grant me a son, Tāraka, to rescue me from this vast ocean of misery.’” Vajrāṅga continued, “Thus addressed, I became agitated and resolved to undertake fierce austerity for the sake of her son, to triumph over the gods.” Hearing this, Brahmā, the four-faced Lord, was pleased and spoke with a serene face: “Enough of austerity, child; do not enter this difficult hardship again. Your son will be named Tāraka, and he will possess great strength. The liberation of Dhammilla among the divine women is assured.” Vajrāṅga bowed in gratitude to the Grandsire. Returning to his wife, Vajrāṅga’s face shone with joy as he delighted his queen. Their wish fulfilled, the couple returned happily to their hermitage. The splendid and beautiful Varāṅgī carried the embryo placed by Vajrāṅga within her womb for a full thousand years. At the end of that time, Varāṅgī gave birth to a son. As this lord of demons was born, he became a terror to the worlds. The whole earth trembled, the oceans quaked, all the mountains shook, and fierce winds howled across the land. The great sages recited sacred chants, wild beasts roared, the moon and sun lost their radiance, and the directions grew misty. With the birth of this mighty demon, all the great Daityas and their women gathered there, delighted. The demon women sang and danced with joy, and a grand festival arose among the Dānavas, O best of the twice-born.