Hear now the wondrous tale of destiny and divine purpose. There was a mighty demon king named Tāraka, the very banner of the asuras, undefeated in battle and a terror to the worlds. It was foretold that, for the destruction of this formidable Tāraka, the blessed Lord Śiva himself would beget a son. This son, destined for greatness, would become the destroyer of Tāraka and the savior of the gods. Śiva’s beloved consort was Satī, daughter of Dakṣa. Yet, for reasons apart from this tale, the goddess Satī, moved by anger, gave up her body. But her story did not end there. She was destined to be born again, this time as the daughter of the snowy mountain Himavat, to bring welfare to all the worlds. Separated from Satī, Śiva—also called Hara—was overcome with grief, perceiving the three worlds as empty in her absence. He withdrew into a cave on the snowy mountain, a place frequented by sages of great accomplishment, and there he practiced severe austerities, awaiting Satī’s rebirth. Thus, both Śiva and the goddess, through their intense penance, prepared the way for a mighty being to be born—one who would become the destroyer of the demon Tāraka. When Satī was born again as the daughter of Himavat, she shone with radiant beauty, yet was veiled in forgetfulness of her divine nature. She longed deeply for union with Śiva, yearning in separation. At the proper time, after both had performed severe austerities, their union was destined to take place. However, it was foreseen that a slight quarrel of words would arise between them, giving rise to further doubt regarding Tāraka’s fate. Therefore, it was decreed that when Śiva and the goddess were united, an obstacle would be created to their enjoyment, ensuring that events unfolded as destined. The goddess Night herself was instructed to delight the mother-to-be with her own form, entering her womb at the appointed time. Afterward, Śiva would withdraw, playfully resting, and would rebuke the goddess. Angered, Satī would again depart to practice austerities for the same purpose. In time, Śiva would beget a son adorned with the radiance of his beloved, a child who would surely become the slayer of the enemies of the gods. The goddess was further charged: until Satī attained all the qualities that transfer with the body, she herself must slay the demons who were unconquerable in the world. Only after the destined union would she gain the power to destroy the demons utterly. Then, having performed her austerities, she would become the very agent of creation and destruction. When Satī completed her vows and became Umā, Śailajā—the daughter of the mountain—would naturally assume her true form. The goddess Night, too, would become a natural part, a single portion, united in form with Umā. Thus, the world would worship her as Ekānaṃśā, she who has many forms and distinctions, who pervades all and fulfills every desire. The knowers of Brahman would call her Gāyatrī, whose face is Oṃkāra. Mighty kings would honor her as the embodiment of power and majesty. She would be called Bhū, mother of peoples, worshipped as Śaivī by the Śūdras. Among sages she would be forbearance, unshaken; among the disciplined, she would be compassion itself. She would be the great collection of means, the policy of those skilled in discernment, the wisdom behind wealth, and the striving in the hearts of all living beings. She would be liberation for all creatures, the path for all embodied ones, fame among the renowned, and the very form of all embodied life. She would be delight for the passionate, joy for the happy, beauty for the adorned, and peace for those burdened by sorrow. She would be delusion among all forms of knowledge, the goal of those who perform sacrifices, the great shore for the oceans, and playfulness for those who delight in sport. She would be the coming-into-being of things, the sustainer of worlds, and as Kālarātri, the destroyer of endless rows of worlds. She would be the night that brings the joy of beloved embraces, worshipped in many and varied forms throughout the world. Those who praised or worshipped her, the bestower of boons, would surely obtain all desires, without doubt. Thus addressed, the goddess Night, with palms joined in reverence, replied, “So be it,” and swiftly departed to the supreme house of Himavat. There, in a grand palace with jeweled walls, she beheld Menā, whose face was as lovely as a pale lotus. Menā’s countenance was slightly dark, her form graceful and full, adorned with potent herbs and attended by the queen of mantras. She wore a golden, jeweled serpent for protection and was illuminated by the light of many gem-lamps, shining like the great worlds. Surrounded by many accomplished attendants and a pleasing retinue, Menā lay on a bright ground-bed covered with pure white cloth, in a place fragrant with incense and perfumed with resin. As night advanced and the day faded, comfort arose in the great house. Most people slept, attended by the spirit of sleep, as Menā began to stir. In the clear moonlight, as the hare-marked moon shone, confusion reigned among the birds of night, and the courtyards filled with night-roaming beings. As Menā, beloved and surrounded by dear ones, was seized by a deep constriction in her throat, a certain agitation arose in her lotus-like eyes. At that moment, Night herself entered Menā’s mouth, long united with her, and gradually entered the womb of the world-mother, the giver of birth. Night entered within, considering itself to be the very birth, and in the cave-forest, the goddess’s complexion was adorned by the presence of night. Then, in the sacred Brahma hour, Himavat’s beloved, the source of life for the lord of the world, gave birth to the cave-born goddess. As she was born, all creatures—immobile and mobile—in all the worlds became filled with happiness. Even those in hell experienced a joy equal to heaven; the minds of cruel beings became peaceful, and all embodied creatures were tranquil. Thus was the divine birth of the goddess, heralded by joy and harmony throughout existence.