On the sixth day, all the hosts of immortals—Brahma, Indra, Upendra, and Bhaskara—gathered together to anoint Guha as their lord. In a splendid and auspicious ceremony, they adorned him with fragrant garlands, incense, toys, umbrellas, fans, nets, ornaments, and sacred ointments, honoring him with every sign of reverence and joy. After Guha, the mighty Six-faced Lord, was duly anointed according to the sacred rites, Indra presented him with Devasena, his renowned daughter, as a bride. For the sake of the Lord’s wife, Vishnu bestowed upon him his own divine weapon, while Kubera, the lord of wealth, granted him a retinue of one hundred thousand Yakshas. Agni gave his radiance, Vayu presented a vehicle, and Tvashtar offered a wondrous toy—a rooster capable of assuming any form. Thus, the gods endowed Guha with an unsurpassed assembly of companions and gifts. Their hearts filled with joy, the gods gave generously to Skanda, who shone with the brilliance of the sun. Then, kneeling upon the ground, the hosts of heaven praised the Six-faced Lord, the bestower of boons, with a hymn that was foremost among all praises: “Salutations to Kumara, the radiant one, to Skanda, destroyer of demons, whose brilliance rivals the newly risen sun; salutations to you, Six-faced Lord, who can assume any form. Salutations to you, adorned with bound jewels, lord of battle, destroyer of demons; to you whose radiance equals the sun, to the secret one, to Guha. Salutations to you who remove the fear of the three worlds, child of boundless compassion, wide-eyed and pure, Vishakha, the great vow-holder. Homage to you, captivating one, fierce in battle, whose peacock vehicle shines gloriously, wearer of armlets. Salutations to you, bearer of the upright banner, possessor of supreme valor, whose power is revered; O auspicious one, be ever compassionate to us.” Having thus praised the lord of sacrifice, devoted to action, the gods and their leaders bowed low. Six-faced, pleased, looked upon them with pure eyes and spoke: “I will destroy your enemies; be free from anxiety. What boon shall I grant you, O gods? Speak your heart’s desire, even if it is difficult—whatever is most dear to you.” Addressed thus, the gods, their heads bowed and minds fixed upon the great-souled Guha, replied: “There is a demon king named Taraka, destroyer of all divine clans, powerful, unconquerable, wicked, of evil conduct and excessive wrath. Slay him; this is our heartfelt wish and the remover of our fear.” Guha, thus addressed, replied, “So be it,” and, accompanied by all the divine hosts, the lord of the worlds departed, praised by the lords of the gods. For the purpose of slaying Taraka, the thorn of the world, Indra, now emboldened by support, sent forth a messenger to the lion among demons. This envoy, fierce and terrifying in appearance, delivered Indra’s message to the demon: “Indra, lord of the gods, speaks to you, O banner of the demons, lord of heaven.” Hearing this, Tarakasura, mighty and formidable, acted as he pleased. The messenger continued, “O Dānava, the sin you have acquired by oppressing the world—today, I am your ruler and the king of the three worlds, its punisher.” Upon hearing these words, Taraka’s eyes reddened with anger, his heart filled with wickedness, and his former glory nearly lost. He retorted, “O Indra, I have seen your manliness hundreds of times in battle; you are shameless and feel no embarrassment, O Indra, you of evil mind.” When the messenger departed, Taraka began to reflect: “Indra, having found no refuge, is justified in speaking this way. That Indra, having been defeated, now seeks support from others.” The wicked one saw evil omens and his own misdeeds. He witnessed a rain of dust and a shower of blood falling from the sky to the earth, the trembling of arms and eyes, dryness of mouth, and confusion of mind. He saw the lotus-like faces of his beloveds fading, and beheld wicked and fierce creatures with evil knowledge. Thinking thus, the son of Diti momentarily cast aside his worries—until the dreadful sound of clashing elephant battalions and the ringing of bells arose. He saw the earth yellowed by dust, trampled by masses of horses, and adorned by the banners of swiftly moving chariots. Wondrously shaped aerial cars, their celestial fans waving, filled the sky, the army resplendent with ornaments and resounding with the songs of Kinnaras. The hosts of heaven bore clusters of blooming flowers from many trees, their weapons at the ready, shining in spotless armor. He saw the army of the dwellers of heaven, resounding with the shouts of bards and praises, filled with the sounds of various instruments, as he, the Daitya, looked on from his palace. His mind disturbed, he pondered, “Who could this unprecedented warrior be, whom I have not conquered?” Troubled by anxiety, he then heard harsh words proclaimed by accomplished bards, words that tore at his heart: “Victory to you, whose unequalled power blazes forth, whose mighty arms are fierce in battle! O Kumara, joy of the gods, moon that makes the lotus faces of the gods bloom, victory to you, fire that dries up the great ocean of the Dānava race! Victory to you, six-faced one, whose sweet-voiced peacock chariot, whose seat is made great by the nails of your feet striking the crowns of the gods! Victory to you, whose lovely crest is adorned with fresh, spotless lotus petals, wild fire to the unbearable race of Daityas! Victory to you, Viśākha, lord! Victory, savior of all the worlds! Victory, leader of the divine army! Skanda, victory to you, son of Gaurī, beloved of the bell, beloved Viśākha, lord, banner-bearer with scattered cloths, golden-ornamented, shining like the sun! Victory to you, who with playful ease have struck terror in all enemies! Victory, savior of all the worlds, destroyer of the best of Diti’s Asuras and Taraka! Skanda, victory to you, child of seven nights, destroyer of the sorrows of the hosts of worlds!” Hearing all this proclaimed aloud by the divine bards, Taraka remembered the words of Brahma and realized that his death was now at hand. Overcome by this realization, drenched in sweat, the foot-soldier who followed no path quickly left the palace, his mind seized by grief.