In the celestial realms, there is an endless delight in music and dance—songs resound, offerings are made, and the air vibrates with the sounds of countless instruments, their qualities so vast that they cannot be fully described. Among these divine hosts is a remarkable figure: clad in a garment of animal skin, his limbs pure, girded with a belt of munja grass, his face painted with red ochre, he is ever restless. Handsome and sweet in form, adorned with garlands of bound lotuses, he plays cymbals fashioned from stone, bronze, and wood. He is the lord of the attendants, following the Kinnaras, listening again and again to the songs of the hosts with deep attention. This heroic boy is ever dear to the heart of the Goddess, endowed with wondrous virtues, worshipped even by the hosts of Ganesha. For such a son, the destroyer of cities has longed, yearning to behold a child who brings joy. May this very one be her son, a delight to the eyes, that she, slender-waisted, be fulfilled as a mother—and may Viraka also find satisfaction. Thus addressed, the Goddess eagerly sent Vijayā, delighted, to swiftly bring Viraka, the daughter of the lord of mountains. Descending quickly from the palace that touched the sky, Vijayā entered the assembly of attendants and spoke to Ganapa: “Come, Viraka! Through your impetuosity, the Lord has been angered. What answer does Shailaja give on this matter in the dance hall?” Thus addressed, Viraka set aside his stone fragments, cleansed his face, and when summoned, recounted the original cause of the matter. Protected by Vijayā, Viraka approached the Goddess slowly from the palace peak, his radiance like a blooming red lotus. Seeing him, Girijā, whose breasts flowed with sweet milk, spoke to him affectionately with gentle words: “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 gentle 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. With soft, variegated and beautiful leaves produced by divine mantras, and many auspicious substances mixed with siddhārtha seeds, she performed the rite of bodily protection for him. After making him a garland bright with gorocanā and fresh leaves upon his head, she spoke: “Go now, go and play with the hosts, remaining vigilant on the mountain; avoid the chasms, and slowly traverse the slopes crowded with snakes, trees, elephants, and broken rocks, where others wander. Do not enter the bank of the Jahnavi river, where the waters are turbulent and the forest is full of 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 in the future.” Viraka, his heart light, assembled all the attendants and spoke with a smile, absorbed in the playful delight of childhood: “Here, my mother herself has adorned me; this is the cloth with crimson dots, these are the flowers of sinduvāra, and this garland mixed with jasmine has been placed upon my head. Who is this one holding the musical instrument among the attendants? I shall give this toy from my hand to him.” Moving from south to west, west to north, and north to east, accompanied by friends, the mountain-daughter gazed at him through the window, seeing the little hero playing outside—and even the mother of the world was bewildered in mind. Who among people, attached to their children, does not fall into delusion? Only one with little understanding, dull, whose body is but a mass of flesh, excrement, and urine, does not. When the moon-crested Lord entered the inner chamber, the gods dwelling in heaven came to see him within. Surrounded by attendants, with vehicles and mounts, the guardians of the worlds beheld him—this form is the sword, the sword-maker, detached, Death himself; by whom and for whom is he struck? Tell me, in silence—do you desire the staff of weapons? There is nothing to be done with this terrifying form on the mountain; what can be accomplished by a master of weapons in killing him? Do not vainly desire to follow the guardians of the worlds, thus the deities said to him at that time. The goddess then spoke to the little hero, who follows the gods of gods: “Go to the forest, mountains, waterfalls, and the abodes of the fire goddess; O guardian of beings, immerse yourself in the waters falling from the cascades.” Let the golden winds roar at will among the lofty mountain groves, in the smoke-covered places adorned with garlands of flowers, from the thunderous bursts of the golden wind. On the ground with high golden peaks, radiant with heaps of golden dust, in the beautiful forest abodes of the sky-dwellers, among the abundant gatherings of various forms, the attendants dwelled in the cave of Mandara. There, with beautiful mandāra flowers, tender leaves, and lotuses, the accomplished women drank the nectar of forms with their wide, unblinking eyes. The mountain-daughter, in a moment, remembered the little hero, eager for her son, seeking delight. He too, blessed by the merit gained in that moment, who had attained sonship in another birth, could not find satisfaction while playing. Even he, created by the future creator of the worlds from his own brilliance, every moment, with divine songs, eager to dance, bowed with the attendants. For a moment, in the lion-roaring Gandha mountain, amidst the net of jewels, beneath the great sāla trees; for a moment, among blooming garlands of various flowers; for a moment, at the root of a tree, the swan wandered. For a moment, in shallow mud, in water thick with lotuses; for a moment, in the mother’s lap, pure and spotless; the lord of the attendants, playing in childish sport, delighting the deities in the groves, accompanied by the singing of the vidyādharas, like Pināka-wielder, with playful amusements, gracefully. Having revealed the enjoyment of the worlds, then, when the sun had departed to another region, the mountain was far away. The mountain that rises and sets before him—let its friendship be firmly considered in the heart. Ever worshipped, glorious, with broad roots and lofty, Meru did not offer a gift to the lord who was about to depart.