In the midst of a fierce battle, a mighty spear was hurled at Tāraka, the lord of the Dānavas. The weapon, shining like a fresh śirīṣa flower, struck his chest and gleamed upon him. Yet, the demon remained unshaken. Then Nirṛti, the guardian of the world, drew his radiant sword from its spotless sheath, its brilliance lighting up the darkened quarters of the sky. He hurled the sword at Tāraka, aiming for his head, but as it struck, the blade shattered instantly into a hundred pieces. The lord of waters, fierce and irresistible, unleashed a blazing noose filled with the terror of poison-fire, hoping to bind the demon’s arms. But the serpent, reaching Tāraka’s arm, perished at once—its great jaws and rows of sharp, saw-like teeth shattered apart, powerless against the demon’s strength. Next, the Aśvins, the Maruts, the Sādhyas, the great serpents, Yakṣas, Rākṣasas, and Gandharvas all gathered, each bearing divine and varied weapons. With immense strength, they struck at Tāraka, but none could pierce his body, which was as hard as a thunderbolt mountain. Then Tāraka, the lord of the Dānavas, leapt down from his chariot and, using only his fists and heels, slew millions of gods. The remnants of the gods’ armies, defeated and terrified, fled in all directions, abandoning their weapons. The demon then bound the guardians of the worlds, beginning with Indra, tying their hair with strong nooses as a slaughterer binds cattle. Mounting his chariot once more, Tāraka returned to his palace, whose lofty summit resounded with the songs of Siddhas and Gandharvas. Praised by the sons of Diti and entertained by Apsarases, he entered his city, as if the fortune of the three worlds belonged to him. He sat upon a throne fashioned from padmarāga gems, his jeweled earrings swaying, delighting for a moment with Kinnaras, Gandharvas, Nāgas, and women. At this moment, the doorkeeper appeared, clad in garments as blue as a spotless lotus. He approached, knelt to the ground, and respectfully covered his mouth with his hand. Bearing a radiant form, he spoke words that were clear and unambiguous, concise yet distinct, before Tāraka and the hosts of the Sun: “Kālanemi stands at the door, having bound the gods, and asks, ‘Where should the bards remain, O Lord?’” Hearing this, Tāraka replied, “Let them stay wherever they wish; my house is the three worlds.” Thus, with a simple binding of cords and without delay, the gods were restrained, their minds greatly distressed. Troubled in heart, the gods sought refuge with the Lotus-born, the teacher of the worlds. Indra and the others bowed their heads to the ground and praised the Lotus-seated One with clear and meaningful words: “You are the sacred syllable Oṃ, the source of the sprout of this universe, the soul of infinite diversity, the first to arise, and after that, the embodiment of existence; to you, who desire dissolution, to you of Rudra’s form, we bow. By your greatness, you manifest your own form from that cosmic egg, named and inconceivable; from that egg, you make the division of the upper and lower realms of heaven and earth. We know that on Meru, your manifestation became the lifespan of beings; what you have established shines forth, and the gods are the offspring of your eternal birth; the sky is your head, the moon and sun your eyes. Serpents are your hair, the directions your ear-holes, the earth your feet, the oceans your navel; you are known in the Vedas as the creator of illusion and cause, tranquil, luminous, and free. The Vedas describe you, the ancient one, realized as abiding within the lotus of the heart; those who have attained yoga praise you as the self, and the subtle seven principles of Sāṃkhya are established by you. Of these, the eighth, which is also sung, is their cause; in each of these, you are praised as the end; seeing your form, both gross and subtle, the gods have described your states with various causes. From you alone, at the beginning of creation, these beings arose; they attained various tendencies; by your will, time, hidden by the attainment of the end, is measurable, its divisions and distinctions dissolved. You are the cause of the manifestation and dissolution of being and non-being; you are infinite and their creator; you are praised by those subtle ones, and the gross beings and their coverings arise from them. From those subtle ones, the gross ancient forms are perceived; thus, the past and future of those who are born; in every state, you are united with what is to be united, and by the manifestation of forms, you are set apart; thus, O Lord of infinite forms, you are the refuge, protector, and guardian of the devoted.” Having thus praised Brahmā, the changeless one, the immortals ceased and stood with their minds intent, praying for the fulfillment of their desired aims. Brahmā, filled with supreme grace, addressed the immortals, granting them a boon, indicating with his left hand. He spoke: “A woman, who, by some misfortune, is separated from her husband and has cast off her ornaments, does not shine; in the same way, O Indra, you appear with a faded face and drooping hair. Even freed from fire, you do not shine with smoke, just as one covered with ashes does not shine, or a burnt forest long left desolate. You do not shine in a body afflicted by disease and death, just as a staff cannot support you at every step without hardship. Though you are lord of the night-walkers, why do you speak as if afraid, O king of the demons? You seem wounded by your enemy, as one struck by an adversary. Your body is dried up like Varuna’s, as if surrounded by fire; bloodless, you gaze at the noose with serpents. You, O Wind, are confused, as if subdued by gentle ones; why do you fear, O Lord of Wealth, abandoning your Kubera-hood? O Rudras, trident-bearers, declare your multitude of spears; by whom has your radiance been cast away, even among you? Your hand has become powerless and does not shine; enough of the discus resembling a blue lotus, O Madhusudana. Why do you, O all-faced one, gaze upon the world with unmoving eyes, as if you are observing the universe with a subdued glance?” Thus addressed by Brahmā, the gods, because of his words being principal, urged the wind.