Listen now to the wondrous tale as revealed in the sacred verses. The sages, filled with curiosity and devotion, posed a profound question: "Whose emblem is it that both gods and asuras worship with reverence across all the worlds? Whom do the gods—beginning with Brahma and Indra—and the great sages call Lord?" They pressed further: "Do you not know the power and origin of these divine beings? Who is it that Aditi is mother to? From whom was Janardana born?" The answer was revealed: From the union of Aditi and Kashyapa were born the gods, with Narayana among the foremost. Kashyapa himself is the son of Marichi, and Aditi is the daughter of Daksha. Both Marichi and Daksha are known as sons of Brahma, who emerged from the golden egg, endowed with divine perfections and powers. But from whose meditation did the primordial elements arise, stirred into agitation? In the third stage of creation, it was then that the act of generating the slayer of Madhu—the divine being—took place. This being was born and created the six classes of beings, each according to their own actions and endowed with intelligence. The Unborn, emerging from the unmanifest Brahma, became the creator. By his own yoga, this great one stirred up nature and fashioned the world. Brahma, through this, attained all perfections, lordship, and the role of creator of the worlds. What Vishnu and others always know by their own greatness is this: assuming new forms and new vision, Hari manifests again and again. He performs all deeds in the world—noble, base, and middling. Thus the cycle of existence unfolds, with birth and death as its nature. The fruits of actions arise in myriad forms, and then the god Narayana resorts to his own shadow, his own divine potency. Impelled by that shadow, he brings forth births of many kinds, for it is said that such impulse is due to action, especially for those whose souls are powerless. Just as the mind of one afflicted by madness perceives the unreal as real, so too does the deluded mind regard even the contrary as desirable or true. In all affairs of the world, in every created thing, it is Vishnu alone who endures both the fruits of righteousness and unrighteousness. This cycle is without beginning, for it is universal; nowhere has embodied life been seen to persist for long. Such is the law for embodied beings: for some, birth or death is evident; for others, it is hidden. Sometimes one perishes in the womb, sometimes lives on, afflicted by old age and disease; some live a hundred years, others die in childhood. One who lives a hundred years is called endless, and one with a short life is not said to die at the outset, thus called immortal. Those like Vishnu are considered to have unseen birth and death; who in this world attains such pure sovereignty in the endless cycle of samsara? There, because of decay and other causes, many wonders appear; therefore, all celestial beings are impure and possess but little glory. Then, the goddess declared with devotion: "O blessed ones, I desire nothing but Shiva, the wielder of the Pinaka bow. Established by gradation, this is the supreme among living beings. The measure of intellect, strength, sovereignty, and action of the great is truly great; since nothing else exists, all proceeds from that." She proclaimed her resolve: "I have taken refuge in him whose sovereignty has neither beginning nor end. This is my vow, long-held and exceedingly firm. Go or stay, O sages, as you wish." Hearing these words of the goddess, the eminent sages were overcome with emotion. Their eyes filled with tears of joy, they embraced the ascetic maiden, delighted, and spoke sweet words to her, the daughter of the mountain: "O daughter, how wondrous you are! Pure, the embodiment of knowledge, you gladden our hearts, abiding in the essence of existence. Indeed, we know the marvelous sovereignty of that god. We have come to ascertain the firmness of your resolve." They assured her: "Soon, O slender-limbed one, your desire will be fulfilled. Just as the sun’s radiance never departs from gems, so too your brilliance is undiminished. What need for indistinct words? How can we go on without Girisha? We have no other recourse; we must entreat him. That purpose dwells deep within our hearts as well. Therefore, you alone are wisdom, you alone are the right path. Without doubt, Shankara himself will accomplish this." Having spoken thus, the sages, honored by the mountain maiden, departed. They journeyed to see Girisha at the great plateau of Himavat, their souls purified by the waters of the Ganga, their matted locks bound and tawny. Their hands bore mandara flowers and garlands, alive with bees, as they ascended the mountain and beheld the hermitage of Shankara. All beings were utterly calm; the forest was newly stilled. In every direction, waterfalls and streams were silent and undisturbed. At the entrance, the narrator beheld a heroic attendant holding a staff, and the seven venerable sages, humble in their purpose. These foremost among eloquent ones spoke with sweet words: "We have come to see the protector, the leader of the hosts, the giver of refuge." They declared: "Know him as the three-eyed one; prompted by the needs of the gods, you alone are our refuge and truth, for time does not overstep you. This is our request, as always, addressed to the lord who is the doorkeeper." Addressed thus, the attendant replied with due respect: "In a moment, the Lord will come to bathe at the Mandakini river during the evening twilight of the sacrifice. O sages, there you will see the wielder of the trident." Thus informed, the sages waited eagerly for that moment, like thirsty chataka birds longing for the deep-thundering monsoon cloud. Then, in a brief while, having completed his meditation and rituals, the Lord rose from his heroic seat, covered with deerskin, ready to appear before them.