The Nāgas, content within their subterranean abode of Pātāla, spent their days in peace. Yet, as time passed, they began to reflect deeply upon their fate. They recalled a prophecy: a king named Bharata, renowned and born of the illustrious Pāṇḍava line, would one day arise. By some divine arrangement, it was destined that he would bring about their destruction. Perplexed and troubled, they wondered, “How is it that the Lord of the three worlds, the Grandsire and creator of all beings, worshipped by the entire universe, has placed a curse upon us?” In their distress, they recognized that apart from the god Viśvacina, there was no other refuge for them. Viśvacina, at that time, was residing in the splendid mansion of Vairāja at Puṣkara, engaged in a great sacrifice. Resolving to seek his favor, all the Nāgas journeyed to Puṣkara. Upon reaching the mountain of sacrifice, they found shelter upon a rocky slope, weary from their travels. Moved by their exhaustion, cool streams of water miraculously flowed forth, emerging northward and bringing them much needed comfort. From this event, O descendant of Bharata, the sacred Nāga-tīrtha was established on earth. Some called it Nāga-kuṇḍa, others spoke of it as a river. This holy place, sanctified by all sacred waters, was renowned for its power to destroy the poison of serpents. Mortals who bathed there on the fifth day of the bright fortnight would find that serpents never brought suffering to their lineage. Those who performed ancestral rites for their forefathers at this tīrtha would, without doubt, be granted the highest abode by Brahmā himself. Understanding the fear that the Nāgas held, Brahmā, the Grandsire, spoke again to them: “That fifth lunar day is blessed, auspicious, and removes all sins. On that sacred day, the task concerning the serpents was accomplished. Whoever, on that day, avoids pungent and sour foods, and bathes the serpents with milk, will find the serpents friendly to them.” At this point, Bhīṣma inquired, “How did Śivadūtī arise, and by whom was she established? Tell me, O great sage, the true nature of this.” Pulastya replied: Śivā, her mind resolute in austerity, journeyed to the blue mountain. Fierce and radiant, she was born from matted locks—her power formidable. She made a vow: “Having performed austerity for a long time, I will consume the entire world.” With this resolve, the goddess undertook the rigorous five-fire austerity. During another period of her supreme penance, an asura named Ruru, of dazzling splendor, had received a boon from Brahmā. In the midst of the ocean stood the wealthy city of Ratna, where Ruru, lord of the Daityas, resided. Terrifying to all the gods and attended by countless thousands of the mightiest asuras, he was honored among his kin, shining like a second Namuci. After some time, Ruru set out for the city of the guardians of the worlds, driven by a desire for victory. Surrounded by his formidable army, he provoked enmity with the gods. As Ruru rose in might, the ocean’s waters surged swiftly, flooding mountain slopes teeming with serpents, crocodiles, and fish. Within these waters, hosts of asuras—enemies of the gods—were adorned with wondrous armor and weapons. A terrible and mighty force, skilled in battle, emerged vast from the ocean’s depths. There were elephants bearing daitya warriors, chariots with bells, all endowed with great prosperity. They came forth in forms like great fish, their might displayed for all to see. Horses bound with golden cords appeared at the water’s edge, shining like red Rohita fish. In great numbers, hundreds of thousands and crores, they emerged swiftly, their speed rivaling the chariot of the sun, their weapons gleaming. Chariots with fluttering banners and resounding wheels rolled forth, while warriors, eager to cross the waters, stood ready on boats with excellent weapons in hand. The asura followers, victorious in battle after battle, shone fiercely as the gods were routed and driven from the field. Pursued relentlessly by the asuras, the gods, overcome by fear, fled in all directions. They sought refuge at the great blue mountain, where the goddess herself stood—terrible, radiant with ascetic power, and the supreme energy of Shiva. There, the goddess Kālarātrī, bringer of destruction, beheld the terrified gods. Her eyes wide as blossoming lotuses, she asked in astonishment, “I see no danger approaching from behind you. Then why are all the gods, with Indra at their head, fleeing?” The gods replied, “Here comes Ruru, lord of the daityas, of terrible might. Surrounded by a great fourfold army, he advances. Therefore, O goddess, distressed, we have come to seek your refuge.” Hearing their words, the goddess laughed aloud, and as she did, splendid women emerged from her mouth. Each bore nooses and goads, with high, full breasts and tridents in hand. They were fearsome, with fanged faces and crested crowns, their teeth bared. Their roars and shouts struck terror into all beings, moving and unmoving. Some wore white garments, some wore varied colors, others were clad in deep blue, and some were eager for the taste of blood. Their faces and bodies took on many forms, and surrounded by these fierce beings, the goddess became the protector of the gods. “Do not fear, gods—may good befall you!” she declared. Even as she spoke, Ruru arrived, his fourfold army in tow. The goddess, on the blue mountain—the path and refuge of the gods—stood firm, beholding the confusion of the gods’ army before her.