Wherever the sacred stories of the Lord are narrated, the virtuous do not approve of digressions to other matters; for this reason, I do not wish to speak at length on unrelated topics. Yet, in order to illustrate the greatness of the Lord, the accounts of creation and their elaborations have also been recounted here. Now, listen as I relate to you the wondrous tale of how the goddess, the daughter of Dakṣa, after abandoning her form as Dākṣāyaṇī, was born anew as the daughter of Himavat and Menā in ancient times. And hear also how Rudra, the great Lord, was reproached by Dakṣa, and the cause for which Bhava was censured. Furthermore, I shall tell you how Daksha himself was born, O Maruta, as a result of Bhava’s curse, in the interval between the Cākṣuṣa and the previous Manu. Attend carefully as I recount the story of Daksha, whose shallow mind and reckless, sinful conduct brought disgrace upon the gods and sages. Once, all the gods and demons, along with the Siddhas and the supreme sages, journeyed to the lofty peak of the Himalaya to behold Īśāna, the great Lord. At that auspicious time, the god and goddess, seated together upon a divine throne, graciously granted their audience to those foremost among gods and twice-born sages. It was then that Daksha himself arrived, accompanied by the immortals, desiring to see his son-in-law Hara and his own daughter Satī. Yet, out of pride and self-regard, the god—though Daksha had come with the goddess—did not especially acknowledge the gods and others present. Failing to recognize the supreme nature of the goddess and seeing her only as his daughter, enmity arose in Daksha’s heart toward her, clouded by delusion. Driven by this enmity and impelled by fate, Daksha, though he was initiated, did not invite Bhava to his great sacrifices, harboring hatred even toward his own daughter. Nevertheless, he performed hundreds of splendid sacrifices, each conducted separately, in his pride. When Rudrāṇī, the goddess, heard from Nārada about these grand gatherings, she went to Rudra and informed him of her father’s assembly. At that moment, a wondrous, divine aerial chariot appeared, facing all directions, adorned with auspicious marks, easy to ascend, and exceedingly enchanting. It shone like molten gold, decorated with precious gems, draped with canopies of pearls, and adorned with garlands and ornaments. Its structure was of refined gold, surrounded by hundreds of jeweled pillars, with steps like diamonds and gateways of coral. The floor was spread with floral carpets, and a grand throne set with many-colored gems stood within, latticed with diamond windows and paved with flawless jewels. Its front was adorned with a beautiful jeweled staff, marked by a great bull, and a banner pure as a cloud. Attendants clad in gem-studded armor and bearing ornate staffs stood guard at the great gate, protected by mighty lords of virtue, unassailable. Within, many women skilled in playing drums, cymbals, songs, flutes, and lutes, all adorned in clever attire and speech, filled the air with music. The great goddess ascended the chariot, accompanied by her beloved friends, with a charming fan of jeweled handle waving beside her. Two auspicious Rudrakanya maidens fanned the goddess, their beauty like swans vying with each other, framing the radiant face of the goddess. Between them, a lotus-like parasol, shining like the moon and garlanded with flowers, adorned the crown of the goddess. This radiant parasol, encircled with pearls, shone affectionately above her. Above all, like the disk of the nectar vessel or the moon itself, the goddess, beautiful and smiling, sat at the forefront. Suyaśā entertained the virtuous goddess with the game of dice, and the goddess’s auspicious jeweled sandals were there. Placing these sandals between her breasts, Suyaśā served the goddess; another, golden-limbed and radiant, brought forth a shining mirror. One attendant held a palm fan, another a betel box, and a lovely maiden took a charming play-cloth in her hand. One brought delightful, fragrant flowers; another, lotus-eyed, carried a container for ornaments. Another applied a well-prepared, auspicious ointment, while others, similar to her, performed their proper duties. Thus surrounded on all sides by her attendants, the supreme goddess shone exceedingly. Amidst the Tara attendants, she appeared like the autumnal crescent moon. Then, as the sound of the conch arose, a great introductory drum was beaten, and sweet instruments played in harmony with the rhythm of clapping hands. Hundreds of kettledrums resounded with unstruck sounds; the leaders of the divine hosts, armed and radiant, were present. Thousands and eight hundred advanced at that time; among them, the bull-mounted one, like a teacher atop an elephant, proceeded. The illustrious leader of the hosts, worshipped by Somānandīśvara, advanced; divine drums resounded in heaven, and clouds bestowed celestial joy. All the sages danced, the accomplished yogis rejoiced, and clouds showered flowers above the canopy. Thus, accompanied by the divine hosts, the supreme goddess entered her father’s house in an instant, as if along every path at once. Seeing her, Daksha’s heart filled with anger, for she was, in his eyes, the cause of his own decline. Yet, compelled by propriety, he performed a respectful worship for her, even more so than for his younger daughters.