Those who cherish your pair of feet within their hearts, recognizing them as the sole cause for the pacification of even the gravest sins, speak only of you as the one who performs countless deeds—though, truly, only you exist. Thus, today, it is you alone who have spoken; otherwise, the world would suffer from your lack of compassion, or perhaps you do not know the suffering of beings—yet, everywhere, all actions are surely destroyed by you. If you were to neglect the distress of the worlds, by what means could your compassion be spoken of? There is no pure majesty of being, hidden in the cave of your yoga and maya, that remains unknown. Among embodied beings, we are especially fortunate, for we behold you in this way; thus, the wish in our minds is fulfilled, for without your vision, it would be in vain. You will act as the sole agent of the world’s arrangement, standing at the forefront of creation; therefore, we sages, abandoning speech, bow in the presence of the mountain-lord and the ground of his utterances, just as excellent farmers sow a handful of good seeds for a fruitful harvest. Having heard their delightful speech, composed with skill and method, the lord of speech was pleased and spoke with a beautiful smile. “I know the noble purpose behind the arrangement of the world. The daughter, born of the snowy mountain, is destined for the highest good, as indicated by signs. All are truly eager, striving for the work of the gods; their minds hasten, but what is the intended task? The wise must especially follow the course of the world; they serve dharma, and others remain established by its authority.” Thus addressed, the sages quickly went to the Himalaya. There, honored by the snowy mountain with respect, the eminent sages, delighted, spoke a few words with urgency: “The god Pinaki seeks your daughter directly; purify yourself swiftly, as one does when offering oblations into fire. This task of the gods has long been turning; let the effort be made now for the rescue of the world.” Hearing this, the mountain, overwhelmed with joy, spoke to the sages, unable to reply, seeking Shiva for an answer. Then Menā, seeing the sages, spoke, her voice trembling with affection, to her daughter and to the sages, seeking refuge at their feet, understanding their purpose. “The purpose for which a daughter’s birth is desired, though it brings great fruit, has now entirely arrived in due course. Even if a suitor possesses family, birth, age, beauty, splendor, and wealth, the daughter should be given to him if he asks, having been summoned. But how can the daughter depart, having undergone all severe austerities? Whatever must be done according to her words, let that be accomplished.” Thus addressed by the beloved of the Lord of Snow, the sages again spoke noble words, pleasing to a woman’s heart: “Know that the sovereignty of Śaṅkara is attained by gods and demons alike, who, fully content, worship his lotus feet. Whatever form is suitable for him, she has long striven through severe austerity to obtain that very form, and in that form she finds delight. Whoever completes those divine vows with care—she alone will become his; therefore, remain attentive until their fulfillment.” Having spoken thus, together with the Mountain King, they went to where Umā, blazing with the fire of her penance and radiance, shone—her austerities outshining the sun and fire. The sages, honoring her who had come along the path, spoke gently: “O lovely, dear, enchanting one, do not burn your beauty away with austerity. In the morning, Śaṅkara will take your hand, O daughter; we, who have already come to your father, have pleaded your cause. Go home with your father; we shall return to our own hermitages.” Thus addressed, thinking “the fruit of my austerity is at hand,” she hurried to her father’s house, adorned with divine splendor. There, the daughter of Himavat, filled with great longing for a vision of Hara, felt that a single night was as long as ten thousand years. Then, at the auspicious Brahma-muhūrta, the celestial women performed various auspicious rites for her, in proper sequence. In the splendid mansion, adorned with many auspicious signs, the seasons themselves, in embodied form, attended upon the Mountain’s daughter, fulfilling all her desires. Winds and clouds swept the mountain’s palaces; Lady Śrī herself adorned the goddess with various ornaments. Radiance filled all things, and prosperity abounded everywhere; jewels like wish-fulfilling gems and other precious stones surrounded the mountain on all sides. Nagas, wish-fulfilling trees, and great celestial trees, as well as medicinal herbs in embodied form endowed with divine properties, attended there. All the juices and minerals became servants of the mountain, eager and obedient to its command. All rivers and oceans, and all that is stationary or moving, increased the glory of the snowy mountain. Sages, nāgas, yakṣas, gandharvas, and kinnaras, as well as the gods of Śaṅkara, gathered on Mount Gandhamādana. All the ornaments and adornments, pure in form, stood ready; even the crescent moon, O Pitāmaha, was placed in Śarva’s matted hair. With eyes wide in generous affection, Cāmuṇḍā bound a great garland of skulls and fastened it upon his head. And she spoke these words: “O Śaṃkara, beget a son who, after slaying the race of Daitya lords, will satisfy me with their blood.” Sauri, bearing a blazing, fiery crown upon his head and adorned with serpent ornaments, stood prepared before Śambhu.