In the sacred presence of the goddess, an extraordinary multitude of beings gathered, each more wondrous and varied than the last. Some among them bore faces like tigers, fierce and wild, while others took the shapes of sheep and goats. Many assumed the forms of different animals, their mouths blazing with fire, their bodies dark and tawny. Among this assembly, there were those who appeared gentle and serene, while others inspired terror; some wore smiling faces, their matted hair dark and tawny, and still others displayed the faces of many kinds of birds and beasts. Their attire was as diverse as their forms: some were draped in silks, others in animal skins, and some stood naked and misshapen. A few had the ears of cows or elephants, some possessed many mouths, eyes, and bellies, and others had numerous feet and arms, wielding a variety of divine weapons. Garlands of many-hued flowers adorned some, while others were decked with serpents of every kind. There were those with wolf-like faces, armed and armored, and some who rode upon wondrous mounts, their forms divine as they moved effortlessly through the sky. The air resounded with the music of lutes, and some danced in joyful postures. Witnessing this astonishing host of attendants, the goddess turned to Shankara and spoke: "Who are these countless beings? How many are there, what are their names, and what is their nature? Please tell me, one by one, about those who stand here." Shankara replied with reverence, "O Goddess, they are beyond counting—numbering in the millions, famed for their powers. With these mighty and fearsome ones, the world is filled. They dwell in sacred places, roam the streets, haunt ruined gardens and homes, and even enter the bodies of demons, children, and the insane, delighting in various foods. Some drink warmth, some foam, others smoke or honey; some drink blood, some eat all things, while others subsist on air or water. They rejoice in songs, dances, offerings, and the music of many instruments. Truly, their qualities are infinite and cannot be fully described." Amidst this host, one stood out—clad in animal skin, pure of limb, girded with a belt of munja grass, his face painted with red ochre, restless in spirit. He was adorned with garlands of lotuses, handsome and sweet of form, playing cymbals of stone, bronze, and wood. The goddess asked, "Who is this lord of the attendants, who follows the Kinnaras and listens intently to their songs?" Shankara replied, "This heroic youth, 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 I have longed—when shall I behold such a joy-giving child?" Shankara then blessed her: "May this very one be your son, a delight to your eyes. May you, slender-waisted one, be fulfilled as a mother, and may Viraka also be satisfied." Overjoyed, the goddess eagerly dispatched Vijayā, instructing her to swiftly bring Viraka, the daughter of the lord of mountains. Descending quickly from the palace that touched the sky, Vijayā approached Ganapa amidst the assembly of attendants and called out, "Come, Viraka! Through your impetuosity, the Lord has been angered. What answer does Shailaja give in the dance hall?" Thus addressed, Viraka set aside his stone fragments, cleansed his face, and, summoned by her, recounted the origin of the matter. Protected by Vijayā, he approached the goddess slowly from the palace peak, his radiance like a blooming red lotus. Seeing him, Girijā—her breasts flowing with sweet milk—spoke to him with gentle affection: "Come, come! You have now become my son, Viraka, granted by the Lord of gods." She placed him on her lap, kissed his cheek as he uttered soft sounds, smelled his head, cleansed his limbs, and adorned him herself with divine ornaments: girdles with bells, anklets, jeweled armlets, necklaces, and ornaments for his thighs. Using soft, beautiful leaves produced by divine mantras and auspicious substances mixed with siddhārtha seeds, she performed a rite of bodily protection for him. After this, she placed a garland bright with gorocanā and fresh leaves upon his head and spoke: "Go now, play with the hosts, but remain vigilant on the mountain. Avoid the chasms and traverse the slopes slowly, for they are crowded with snakes, trees, elephants, and broken rocks, where others wander. Do not enter the banks of the Jahnavi river, where the waters are turbulent and the forest teems with wicked tigers. O Viraka, among the countless children of Ganesha, let the feeling of sonship—which has pleased my heart—remain in you. This auspiciousness, sought by your ancestors, has now come to you; may this blessedness endure." Viraka, delighted, gathered all the attendants and spoke with a smile, his heart full of childish joy: "Here, my mother herself has adorned me; this is the cloth with crimson dots, these are the sinduvāra flowers, and this garland mixed with jasmine has been placed upon my head. Who among the attendants holds the musical instrument? I shall give this toy from my hand to him." As he played, moving from the south to the west, from the west to the north, and from the north to the east, surrounded by friends, the mountain-daughter watched him through the window. Seeing the little hero at play, even the mother of the world was overcome with bewilderment and love. For who among mortals, attached to their children, does not fall into such sweet delusion? Only one of dull understanding, whose body is but flesh, excrement, and urine, would remain unmoved. At that moment, when the moon-crested Lord entered the inner chamber, the gods dwelling in heaven came to see him. Surrounded by their attendants, with their vehicles and mounts, the guardians of the worlds beheld him. This form is the sword, the sword-maker, detached—Death itself. By whom and for whom is he struck? Tell me, in silence, if you desire the staff of weapons. For nothing need be done with this fearsome form upon the mountain; what could a master of weapons accomplish by seeking to destroy him?