In a parched and waterless land, there is no act more meritorious than the wise construction of a well, for each drop of water given grants the builder a year’s dwelling in heaven. Yet, the merit grows: a single pond equals ten wells; a lake counts as ten ponds; a virtuous son is worth ten lakes; and a tree surpasses even ten sons. Such is the divine ordinance, established for the world’s welfare. Having received these teachings, the Brahmins, headed by the wise Brihaspati, reverently worshipped the goddess Bhavani. Their hearts full, they returned to their homes, leaving the divine couple alone. When the Brahmins had departed, Shankara—Lord Shiva—took Parvati gently by her left hand and led her inside. There, before them, stood a palace that delighted the mind: its grand gateway was festooned with garlands of pearls, and its platforms overflowed with fragrant flower wreaths. Within, a charming play-cave awaited, its floors polished and shining, the air sweet with the scent of scattered blossoms. The cooing of intoxicated female birds echoed through the halls. The inner walls resonated with the melodious singing of Kinnaras, while invisible clouds of incense perfumed the air, stirring desire in the heart. All around, peacocks strutted and women played, musicians filled the corridors with their art, and the cries of flocks of swans resounded. Crystal pillars supported the platforms, lending the palace a pure and luminous beauty. There was no confusion here, only joy; crowds of Kinnaras gathered, and parrots pecked at rubies that sparkled like living gems. The walls, adorned with pearls reflecting a pomegranate’s red seeds, formed a splendid backdrop as the goddess Parvati began to play at dice. On a floor as clear and deep as blue sapphire, she and Shankara stood, united in delight and playful enjoyment. As the divine couple played, a great sound suddenly arose from within the palace. Curious and filled with wonder, Parvati, her auspicious body radiant, turned to Hara and asked, “What is this sound?” Shankara replied tenderly, “You have not seen this before, O greatly astonished one. These are my beloved Ganeshas, who are always at play upon this mountain. In ages past, through austerity, celibacy, discipline, and devoted service to sacred places, these best of men pleased me. Now, they dwell near me, dear to my heart, taking whatever forms they wish, full of enthusiasm, and endowed with great qualities and wondrous appearances.” He continued, “By my actions, I astonish even those mighty ones who possess the power to create and dissolve the universe, both moving and unmoving. Though I am ever surrounded by Brahma, Vishnu, Indra, Gandharvas, Kinnaras, and great serpents, O lovely one, I am never separated from my attendants.” “These are my beloved attendants who play here on the mountain,” Shankara said. Filled with wonder, the goddess left that place and approached a window. She gazed out, her face astonished, and beheld a marvelous sight: some of the attendants were thin, some tall, some short, some stout, some with great bellies. Some had tiger-like faces, others the forms of sheep or goats; many took on the shapes of animals, their mouths flaming, their bodies dark or tawny. There were gentle ones and terrifying ones, some with smiling faces, some with dark and tangled matted hair; others had the faces of birds or beasts of every kind. Some wore silks, others animal skins, some were naked and deformed; some had the ears of cows or elephants, many mouths, many eyes, and great bellies. Some had countless feet or arms, wielding divine weapons; others wore garlands of many flowers and were adorned with serpents. Some bore wolf faces and weapons, decked in various armors; some rode wondrous mounts, divine in form, moving through the sky. Music resounded—some played lutes, others danced in myriad postures. Astonished by this host, the goddess turned to Shankara and asked, “Who are these attendants? How many are there, what are their names, and what is their nature? Tell me, one by one, those who are stationed here separately.” Shankara replied, “They are countless, numbering in the millions, each famed for their varied powers. With these mighty and fearsome beings, the world is filled. They enter sacred places, streets, ruined gardens, houses, even the bodies of demons, children, and the insane—rejoicing in all sorts of foods. Some drink warmth, some drink foam, some smoke, some honey; some drink blood, some eat everything, some live on air, and some on water. They delight in songs, dances, offerings, and the sounds of many instruments. Truly, because they are infinite, their qualities cannot be fully described.” Then Shankara pointed out one in particular: “Clad in animal skin, pure of limb, girded with a munja grass belt, his face painted with red ochre, he is ever restless. Adorned with garlands of bound lotuses, handsome and sweet in form, he plays cymbals of stone, bronze, and wood. This is the lord of my attendants—do you ask his name? He follows the Kinnaras, listening again and again to their songs. This heroic boy, O Goddess, is ever dear to my heart, endowed with wondrous virtues, and worshipped by the hosts of Ganesha. For such a son as this, O destroyer of cities, I have longed. When shall I behold such a son, a giver of joy?” Shankara continued, “May this very one be your son, the delight of your eyes. May you, slender-waisted one, be fulfilled as a mother, and may Viraka also be satisfied.” Hearing these words, Parvati, eager and delighted, sent Vijayā swiftly to fetch Viraka, daughter of the lord of mountains. Descending quickly from the sky-touching palace, Vijayā approached Ganapa amidst the assembly of attendants and spoke: “Come, Viraka! Through your impetuosity, the Lord has been angered. What answer does Shailaja give on this matter in the dance hall?” Thus the divine play and mystery of Shiva’s attendants unfolded before Parvati, revealing the wondrous forms and the deep love that binds the Lord to his hosts.