Having been spoken to, he put aside the fragments of stone he had been working with, cleansed his face, and, when summoned by her, recounted the original cause of all that had transpired. Protected by Vijayā, he slowly approached the Goddess from the palace’s peak, his radiance blossoming like a red lotus in full bloom. Girijā, whose breasts flowed with sweet milk, saw him and spoke affectionately, her words gentle and sweet. “Come, come! Now you have become my son, Viraka, granted to me by the Lord of gods.” With these loving words, she placed him on her lap, kissed his cheek as he uttered gentle sounds, and smelled his head. She cleansed his limbs and adorned him herself with divine ornaments: girdles with tinkling bells, anklets, jeweled armlets, necklaces, and ornaments for his thighs. Then, using soft, beautiful leaves produced by divine mantras, and many auspicious substances mixed with siddhārtha seeds, she performed the rite of bodily protection for him. After this, she took him and made a garland bright with gorocanā and fresh leaves, placing it upon his head. She spoke, “Go now, go and play with the hosts, but remain 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 teems with many 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, gathering all his attendants, spoke with a smile, his mind 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.” As he moved from the south to the west, from the west to the north, and from the north to the east, accompanied by friends, the mountain-daughter gazed at him through the window. She watched her little hero playing outside, and even the mother of the world was bewildered in her heart. 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 there. Surrounded by attendants, with vehicles and mounts, the guardians of the worlds beheld this form—sword, sword-maker, detached, Death himself. By whom and for whom is he struck? In silence, tell me, are you desirous of the staff of weapons? There is nothing to be done with this terrifying form on the mountain; what could a master of weapons accomplish in killing him? Do not vainly desire to follow the guardians of the worlds, the deities advised him at that time. The goddess 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 in the nectar of forms with their wide, unblinking eyes. The mountain-daughter, for a moment, remembered her 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, he wandered in the lion-roaring Gandha mountain, amidst nets 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, like a swan. For a moment, in shallow mud, in water thick with lotuses; for a moment, in his mother’s lap, pure and spotless; the lord of the attendants played in childish sport, delighting the deities in the groves, accompanied by the singing of the vidyādharas, like Pināka-wielder himself, with graceful amusements. Having revealed the enjoyment of the worlds, when the sun departed to another region, the mountain seemed 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. Even in water, this order prevails; a wise person may doubt everything. The sun, following the end of the day, fills his own people with light. The sages, facing the sun with joined hands at twilight, beseech him for a swift return, restraining their minds in contemplation. Thus, in the world, darkness gradually expanded, polluting the mind like the malice in a crooked heart. A bed, its canopy covered with garments as white as the moon’s rays, stood beneath walls illuminated by the shining jewels on the blazing serpent’s hood. Adorned with the brilliance of various gems, imitating Indra’s rainbow, hung a net of jewel bells and clusters of suspended pearls. The chamber, draped with charming, gently swaying canopies, was softly traversed, accompanied by the daughter of the mountain. He stood, his neck bent by the embrace of the mountain-daughter’s arms, his domain purified by the moon-crested, radiant light. The mountain-daughter, dark-eyed and with the hue of blue lotus petals, mingled with the night, became one with the darkness. Then the playful god addressed her: “On my body, slender one, the pale radiance shines with a dark glow; like a pure serpent resting on sandalwood, it clings to the tree. Touched by moonlight and adorned with beautiful garments, you give me a defect in vision, as the night darkens one side.