Among both humans and gods, it is well known that the marks found upon the hands and feet reveal the signs of auspicious or inauspicious outcomes. The one whose hands are upturned is called so, as you have said, O foremost sage; this gesture of upturned hands is always associated with those who beg. For those born under auspicious stars and fortune, yet who never give, you have explained that the shadow cast by her own feet is a sign of adultery. Yet even in such cases, O sage, hope for the best does not arise for us; instead, other bodily marks separately indicate different results. You have said that the signs indicating good fortune, wealth, sons, lifespan, and the acquisition of a husband—all these, O foremost sage, are absent in her. You know everything about me and always speak the truth; O tiger among sages, I am bewildered, and my heart feels as if it is breaking. Having spoken thus, Śaila, the mountain king, ceased pondering his great sorrow. Hearing all this from the lotus-faced king, Nārada—prompted by the gods—spoke with a gentle smile. “Even in a place of great joy, you describe sorrow; the meaning of your words is unclear, and you fall into delusion, O great mountain. Hear now my speech, established in secret, O great mountain, with your mind attentive, concerning the matter I have spoken. O Himācala, when I said that no husband is born for this goddess, I meant that the great god Mahādeva—the origin of past, present, and future, refuge, eternal teacher, Śaṃkara, supreme lord—is not born. Brahmā, Viṣṇu, Indra, and the sages, afflicted by birth, death, and old age, are all mere playthings of that supreme lord, O mountain. Brahmā exists, born from his own wish, lord of the worlds; Viṣṇu is born in every age, of various kinds and great form. You think that Viṣṇu is born by illusion in every age, but there is no destruction of the self, even at the end of immovable things, O mountain. For one being born and carried in the cycle of existence, only the body perishes here; destruction of the self is not spoken of. This cycle of existence, spoken of as extending from Brahmā down to the immovable, is afflicted by birth, death, and suffering, and helplessly revolves. Mahādeva is unchanging, steadfast, unborn, the originator, ageless; he will be the Lord, the Master of this universe, free from all affliction. And what I have said, O goddess, about your marks being absent—listen now to the proper consideration of that statement as well. A divine mark is a sign based on bodily features, revealing the measure of one’s lifespan, wealth, and fortune. But for this fortune, O mountain, which is endless and immeasurable, no mark or sign is established on the body. Therefore, O wise one, there is no mark on her body, as I have said; yet she always displays the open-handed gesture. This open, boon-bestowing hand of the goddess will always grant boons to the hosts of gods, asuras, and sages. As has been said, her feet are unwavering in their pure reflection; listen, O best of mountains, to my explanation here as well. Her feet, resembling lotuses, with shining, clear nails, are reflected by the radiant jewels in the crowns of gods and asuras who bow to her. Glowing with wondrous colors, mirrored in their pure reflection, she is the wife of the Teacher of the World, O mountain, the one marked by the bull. She is the mother of the world’s order, the source of all beings; this Śivā, radiant as fire, has appeared in your domain for the world’s purification. Therefore, let their union with the wielder of the bow happen swiftly; so, O best of mountains, you must perform the proper rites, for this is a supremely great task for the gods, O Himavat.” Having heard all this from Nārada, the lord of mountains felt as if he had been reborn at that very moment. Then, bowing to the bull-bannered, wise god, Himācala joyfully spoke to Nārada: “O sage, you have rescued me from the dreadful, impassable hell; having lifted me from the netherworld, you have made me lord of the seven realms. O best of sages, now you have made me renowned as Himācala, and have raised me to the highest excellence among the mountains. O sage, my heart now is filled with days of joy; it no longer dwells on the analysis of duties, if I might become lord of speech in pondering your virtues. For those like you, O sage, the sight is always unfailing; and your affection for us, O great sage, is clearly evident. It is by you alone that I am to be engaged for the residence of those whose nature is the self—sages and deities; even though I am the self-creator, I too am subject to impurity. Nevertheless, grant me a command regarding a particular matter,” said the lord of mountains, filled with joy. Nārada replied, “All has been accomplished, O Lord; in the matter of the gods, whatever purpose you have is indeed even greater.” Having spoken thus, Nārada quickly departed for heaven; arriving at the abode of Śakra, he beheld the lord of immortals. Then, the sage, handsome and seated upon a great throne, was questioned by Śakra and spoke the tale concerning the daughter of the mountain. “Whatever was to be done collectively, I have indeed accomplished; but now the time of the five-arrowed one has arrived.” Thus addressed by the sage who understood the task, the lord of the gods, Pākaśāsana, remembered the weapon of the mango sprout. Then, upon being remembered by the wise thousand-eyed one, he swiftly appeared, accompanied by Rati and displaying playful charm—the fish-bannered god. Seeing him manifest, Śakra spoke to him with respect.