Impelled by the force of action, beings are born into countless forms—this impulse arises from karma, especially for those whose inner selves lack power. Just as the mind of one possessed by madness perceives reality distortedly, so too do such beings see even the contrary as desirable or true. In all the affairs of the world and among all created things, it is Vishnu alone who endures the fruits of both righteousness and unrighteousness. This cycle has no beginning, for its nature is universal; nowhere has the embodied life been seen to last long. Such is the law for all embodied beings: for some, birth and death are apparent; for others, they remain hidden. Sometimes, a life perishes in the womb; sometimes, one lives to old age and suffers disease. Some live a hundred years, others die in childhood. A man who lives a hundred years is called “endless,” while one whose life is short is not said to die at once, and so is 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 existence? Amid the conjunctions of decay and other causes, many wonders appear; thus, all celestial beings are impure and possess but little glory. “O blessed ones,” said the ascetic maiden, “I desire nothing but Shiva, the wielder of the Pinaka bow. Through gradual ascent, he is the supreme among living beings. The greatness of intellect, strength, sovereignty, and action of the great is truly great; since nothing else exists, all proceeds from that source. I have taken refuge in him whose sovereignty has neither beginning nor end; this is my resolve, long-standing and exceedingly firm.” “Go or stay, O sages, as you wish,” she continued. Hearing these words from the goddess, the eminent sages, with eyes brimming with tears of joy, embraced the ascetic maiden. Supremely delighted, they spoke sweetly to the daughter of the mountain: “O daughter, how wondrous you are! Pure as the embodiment of knowledge, you delight our hearts, resting in the essence of existence. Indeed, we know the marvelous sovereignty of that god; we have come here to ascertain the firmness of your resolve. Soon, slender-limbed one, your desire will be fulfilled—just as the sun’s radiance abides in gems, so does brilliance remain undivided. What use is there in indistinct words? How can we go without Girisha? We have no other way; we must entreat him. That purpose dwells deeply in 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 went to see Girisha at the great plateau of Himavat, their souls purified by the waters of the Ganga, their matted locks bound and tawny. With hands adorned with mandara flowers and garlands, followed by bees, they reached the plateau of the mountain and beheld Shankara’s hermitage. All beings were utterly calm, the forest newly stilled; in every direction, the waterfalls and streams were silent and undisturbed. At the entrance, they saw a heroic attendant holding a staff, and the seven venerable sages, humble in respect for their task. Those foremost among eloquent ones spoke sweetly: “We have come to see the protector, the leader of the hosts, who grants refuge. Know him as the three-eyed one; prompted by the needs of the gods, you alone are our true refuge and truth, for time does not overstep you. This is our request, almost always addressed to the lord who is the doorkeeper.” Thus addressed by the sages, 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 instructed, the sages waited for that moment, like thirsty chataka birds longing for the deep-thundering monsoon cloud. Then, in a moment, after completing the acts of meditation and ritual, the Lord rose from his heroic seat, which was covered with deerskin. Humbly kneeling, the attendant addressed the god with reverent salutation: “The seven sages have arrived, O radiant Lord, to see you. Please command that they may approach you; they have come, eager for your audience, on the gods’ behalf.” Thus addressed by his great-souled attendant, Shiva gave his permission, signaled by a movement of the earth. With a bow of his head, the attendant summoned all those great sages, who were standing not far away, to the presence of the wielder of the bow. With their hair bound in half-knots and antelope skins hanging down, they entered the sacred enclosure, adorned with the glories of the Lord of the Mountain. With hands joined in reverence, bearing heaps of celestial flowers, they worshipped the feet of the wielder of the bow, venerated by the dwellers of heaven. Then, gazed upon with gentle eyes by the trident-holder, the peaceful sages, delighted, praised the enemy of Kāma with devotion: “Ah, now we are truly fulfilled! Even the Lord of the gods will grant a boon here. By the pure water of your grace, some fruit is attained through austerity. Blessed indeed is that Himalaya, whose daughter performs austerity at his shelter; even the king of the demons, Tāraka, who uprooted all the gods, will meet his great end. Seeing your portion, one is freed from one’s own impurity of body; blessed in mind is he—the four-faced creator and Hari himself are set ablaze with eagerness for you.