Upon a wooded slope, there appeared a heroic figure, the lord of all heroes, radiant as Īśāna himself. His tawny matted locks, dusted with the golden pollen of yakṣa saffron, crowned his head. In his hand he bore a staff, undisturbed in his composure, and his form was adorned with the fierce ornaments of a serpent king. His eyes, closed in serene meditation, resembled lotus petals at rest. With beautiful eyes, he gazed steadily at the tip of his nose. Draped across his shoulders was an upper garment, fashioned from lion and elephant skins gathered in the forests of Śrāvastī. His ears were adorned by the hoods of serpents, and his breath glowed like fire. His swinging matted locks were hung with skulls at their ends, swaying with each movement. Reclining upon Vāsuki, the great serpent, who served as his couch, he rested with his navel as the center of that divine seat. Adorning him was yet another serpent, whose tail-tip was reverently held in the joined palms of Brahmā himself. It was then that Kāma, the god of love, gradually drew near and beheld Śaṅkara, the great Lord. Amidst the gentle humming of bees, Kāma approached the slope, intent on his mission. Entering the mind of Bhava through the opening of his ear, Madana—the god of love—let loose his sweet, love-laden sound. Hearing this, Śaṅkara’s mind turned to Dakṣa’s daughter, his beloved, and his heart was inflamed with passion. Yet, as he remembered her, she—pure and radiant—gradually faded from his sight, absorbed in deep meditation, appearing as the very object of his concentration. Her mind, obstructed by inner hindrances, became wholly identified with her focus. By his mastery, the Lord perceived the distortion arising from desire. Slightly filled with anger, the steadfast Dhūrjaṭi composed himself. Yet, though hope was absent, desire persisted, enveloping him in yogic illusion. Thus seized, the fire of longing blazed forth within him. Desire, embodied by will and difficult to subdue, emerged from his heart—a great seat of anger and fault, consisting of the affliction of longing. Taking up a place outside, Kāma, the Fish-bannered One, approached, accompanied by his friend residing in the heart, together with Madhu. As Madana gazed upon a cluster of mango blossoms gently shaken by the soft wind, he delighted in the beauty that adorned Hara’s chest. Then, the Makara-bannered One released his bewildering arrow, Mohana—the mighty, destructive flower-shaft—into the pure heart of Śiva. That harsh, tall, bewildering flower-arrow struck; and, pierced in the heart, Bhava experienced confusion of the senses. Though his steadfastness was like a mountain, he became inclined toward desire, and under the power of those feelings, he fell under their sway. Disturbed by many external obstacles, the fire of anger arose within him, and from it issued a terrible, fearsome roar. Upon his face appeared a third, blazing eye, filled with fire—the fierce, world-destroying eye of Rudra in his terrible form. As Madana stood nearby, Dhūrjaṭi opened that eye. From its spark, the denizens of heaven cried out in alarm. In that instant, Kāma, the subduer of lovers’ pride, was reduced to ashes. The fire born from Hara’s eye, having incinerated Kāma, expanded, eager to burn the world, roaring with flames. But for the sake of the world, Bhava restrained the fire. Yet the fire of love, the arrow of desire, did not vanish. It lingered in the mango tree, in spring, in the moon, in flowers, in bees, in the voices of cuckoos, and in many forms. Pierced within and without by Hari, kindled by passion and affection, the fire of love rushed within as a fierce, blazing flame. Unrestrainably swelling, it agitated the divided world, reaching the hearts of lovers, saturating them with affection. Day and night it burned, dreadful and incurable, as the world saw love reduced to ashes by the flame of Hara’s wrath. Rati, the beloved of Kāma, wailed bitterly with her cruel companion Madhu. After much lamentation, Madhu sought to console her. Then, gathering a blossoming mango creeper followed by bees, Rati went for refuge to the god with the crescent moon and three eyes. Taking the flowering creeper as a sacred offering in her hand, she bound her companion, the bird-charming creeper, to her matted locks adorned with curling tresses. Sprinkling her body with the pure, pleasing ashes of love, she fell to her knees before the Lord and spoke to the one adorned with the moon: “Homage to Shiva, the flawless one; homage to Shiva, the one made of mind; homage to Shiva, ever worshipped by the gods, always supremely compassionate to devotees. Homage to Bhava, source of existence; homage to you, destroyer of the god of love; homage to you, who keeps the great vow in secret; homage to you, who dwells in the thicket of illusion. “Homage to Sharva, homage to Shiva; homage to the accomplished, the ancient one; homage to Time, homage to art; homage to you, bestower of supreme knowledge. Homage to you, who transcends time and its divisions; homage to you, adorned with natural purity; homage to you, slayer of the immeasurable Andhaka; homage to the refuge, homage to the qualityless one. “Homage to you, leader of the terrible hosts; homage to you, creator of many worlds; homage to you, arranger of diverse universes; homage to you, giver of varied fruits. At the end of all, O imperishable seer, homage to you, enjoyer of wondrous sacrifices; homage to you, fulfiller of devotees’ wishes; homage always to you, remover of worldly bondage. “To you of infinite forms, always my homage; to you of unbearable wrath, homage; to you marked by the moon, always my homage; to you of immeasurable measure, homage to the praised one. To you who rides the bull, destroyer of cities, homage to the renowned, the great medicine; homage to you, giver of devotees’ wishes; homage to you, remover of all suffering. “You are the supreme teacher, discerning the ways of all moving and unmoving beings, perceiving the creation of beings; I, seeking refuge, approach you, the moon-crested, the immeasurable beloved of the great. Grant me again the fulfillment of love and fame, O Lord; let Kāma live again. Without you, beloved of life, who else exists in the worlds?” Thus, with devotion and longing, Rati prayed to the great Lord Shiva, seeking the restoration of love and the return of her beloved Kāma.