O lord of yogis, a disciple once asked to hear about the marks of the manifestation of the liṅga. The revered teacher, moved by affection, promised to reveal the highest truth. He began: Long ago, at the end of a great age when the world was celebrated, the two mighty souls, Brahmā and Viṣṇu, began to contend with each other. To dispel their pride, the Supreme Lord manifested between them as an endless pillar, revealing his own true nature. From the sign of his own liṅga, Śiva, in the form of this pillar, displayed his liṅga, wishing for the welfare of all beings. From that moment onward, throughout the worlds, the liṅga of the Lord is regarded as formless, and likewise, the image with form is established as Śiva’s. For the other gods, only their images are established; each god’s image grants their respective enjoyments and is auspicious. But the liṅga-image of Śiva bestows both enjoyment and liberation, and is supremely auspicious. Once, O lord of yogis, Viṣṇu, reclining on the serpent, slept in supreme prosperity, surrounded by his attendants. By chance, Brahmā, the foremost knower of Brahman, arrived and questioned the lotus-eyed one lying on his beautiful bed: “Who are you, lying here like a man, gazing at me with pride? Arise, child, behold me, your master, who has come here. One who, seeing his guru and lord arrive, behaves arrogantly is a betrayer and a fool; expiation is prescribed for him.” Hearing these words, Viṣṇu, though angry, acted outwardly calm: “Peace to you, welcome, child, sit down, take this seat.” Brahmā retorted, “Why does your face appear fierce, your gaze uneven, like a tiger’s, O Viṣṇu? Great pride has come upon you, driven by time. The Grandfather is the lord of the world, and you are its protector. This world abides in me, yet you act like a thief among men. Born from the lotus of my navel, you are my son, yet you speak in vain.” Thus, these two deluded and undefeated ones argued: “I alone am supreme, not you; I am the lord, not you.” Wishing to destroy each other, they prepared for battle. Those two immortal heroes, riding the swan and the king of birds, fought fiercely; and their followers, too, clashed with one another. All the races of gods, traveling in their aerial chariots, gathered to witness this wondrous battle, showering flowers and watching from the sky. Viṣṇu, riding Garuḍa, became angry at Brahmā’s chest. Brahmā, enraged, released countless arrows and formidable weapons upon Viṣṇu’s chest. At that time, both discharged many weapons and arrows blazing like fire; truly, the spectacle of their battle was astonishing. Seeing this, the hosts of gods were greatly distressed and spoke anxiously. Viṣṇu, deeply angered and breathing heavily, readied the mighty Maheśvara missile against Brahmā. In turn, Brahmā, exceedingly enraged, shook the entire universe and set the dreadful Pāśupata weapon upon Viṣṇu’s chest. That missile, rising up, shone in the sky like ten thousand suns, with a thousand terrible mouths, fierce and fearsome as a violent wind, a terror to both Brahmā and Viṣṇu. Thus, the battle between Brahmā and Viṣṇu became mutually destructive. All the hosts of gods, deeply troubled and dismayed, spoke among themselves, “O sages, this is like the turmoil of kings.” They reflected: From whom creation, preservation, dissolution, concealment, and grace proceed—to that Brahmā and the wielder of the trident—without their favor, not even the destruction of a blade of grass is possible here by anyone else, even by chance. Fearful, the gods sought out the abode of Śiva, ascending to the peak of Kailāsa, where the moon-crested Lord abides. Delighted, the immortals reached the supreme abode of the Lord, entering that mansion and bowing in the form of the sacred syllable Oṃ. There, in the center of the assembly, upon a jeweled seat within the pavilion, they beheld the illustrious Lord of gods, shining with Umā. With one foot placed over the other, his hands in a posture befitting worship, surrounded on all sides by his own attendants, marked by every auspicious sign, he was fanned by devoted women with lotus-leaf fans, praised continually by the Vedas, and graciously blessing all as the Lord. Seeing the Lord in this way, the immortals, their eyes filled with satisfaction, prostrated themselves from afar, and the great hosts offered their salutations. Observing the gods, the Lord summoned them near with his attendants; then, delighting the gods, the crest-jewel of gods spoke words deep in meaning and sweet in blessing: “Children, is all well with you? Does the world and the lineage of gods abide by my command? Is each engaged in their proper duty or not? I was already aware of the battle between Brahmā and Viṣṇu, O gods; your repeated anxious words have made it clear.” With a gentle smile, by the sweet words of the boy, the Lord pleased the Mother, and then went to the assembly of the gods. To proceed to the battlefield, the Lord of Hari and Brahma commanded a hundred leaders of the hosts right there in the assembly. Many kinds of instruments sounded for the departure of the Supreme Lord, and the chiefs of the hosts, adorned with various vehicles and ornaments, were fully equipped. The Lord, husband of Bhadrāmbikā, mounted a chariot adorned with five circles, having the form of the sacred syllable Om from beginning to end. All the gods, with their sons and hosts, including Indra, followed him, ready to witness the resolution of the cosmic conflict.