The gods, their hearts heavy with humility, approached Shankara, the Lord of Girija, and offered him their praises. With reverent voices they exclaimed, “Victory to you, Shankara, Lord of the gods, great master, protector of the distressed! Show us mercy, O Maheshana, and truly forgive our offense.” They continued, “O guardian of sacrifice, lord and destroyer of sacrifices, have compassion, O Lord of the cremation ground, and forgive our trespasses.” Their words poured forth in devotion: “O God of gods, supreme Lord, nourisher of your devotees’ lives, dispenser of justice to the wicked, our master—show us mercy; we bow to you. You, O Lord, remove pride from the wicked and from those ignorant of your greatness; but you are ever the protector of the virtuous whose minds are fixed upon you. Your deeds are wondrous, and by your compassion, all offenses are forgiven; your greatness lies in your love for the afflicted.” Pleased by these heartfelt praises from Brahma and the other immortals, the great Lord—an ocean of compassion, ever devoted to his devotees—bestowed his favor upon them. Shankara, friend of the afflicted, gladly granted blessings not only to the gods but also to all mankind. Then, with supreme compassion, the Lord, his face adorned with a gentle smile, dispelled their fears and spoke to the gods who had sought his refuge: “Whatever has transpired here, done by you as if compelled by the decree of fate, is already forgotten by us. Take refuge in this: the matter is settled. With no shame or discord, return happily to the city of the gods, led by Hari, Virinchi, and Indra.” Having thus addressed the assembly of gods, the Lord of gods—he who had destroyed Daksha’s sacrifice—stood for a moment with Girija and his attendants, and then vanished from the sky. The gods, now relieved of distress, their noble and auspicious deeds freshly recounted, departed at once with joy and freedom, led by Maghavan, each returning as they wished. But where did Hara, accompanied by the goddess and his attendants, go after vanishing? Where did he dwell, and what did he do there? The illustrious Mandara, best among mountains, adorned with wondrous caves and beloved of the Lord of gods, became his abode for austerities. There, upon its own summit, the mountain bore Shiva himself as he performed great penance. In time, Mandara attained the happiness that comes from touching the dust of Shiva’s lotus feet. The beauty of that mountain, even if described with a thousand mouths for hundreds of millions of years, could never be fully expressed. If such a description were possible, even then, it would be beyond my ability, for the beauty of other mountains is ordinary and comparable. But this much can be said: Mandara’s abundance and splendor are so great that it is truly fit to be the dwelling of the Lord. For this very reason, Shiva, wishing to please the goddess, made this exceedingly lovely mountain his inner palace. Its foothills, adorned with pure stones and trees, are made holier still by the constant presence of Shiva and Parvati, surpassing all the world. The waters of Mandara, used daily by the divine parents of the world for bathing and drinking, have become sanctified, spreading merit everywhere. The gentle, cool touch of its clear waterfalls, as if anointing with clarified butter, crowns Mandara as the king of mountains. At night, its lofty peak, crowned by the moon, shines resplendently, as though beneath the royal umbrella of mountain sovereignty. The playful hands of maidens fan the mountain, as if with the royal fans of sovereignty over all mountains. At dawn, when the sun rises, Mandara, adorned with jewels, stands as if gazing upon its own beauty in a mirror. The mountain is worshipped by the chirping of birds, the waving creepers lifted by the wind, the constant shower of loosened flowers, and the hanging tender leaves. Ascetic trees, with tangled creeper-hair, offer their victorious blessings together as if in worship. With peaks facing downward, upward, and sideways, Mandara appears as if plunging into the underworld or leaping up from the earth. Surrounded on all sides, it seems to wander through the sky, seeing the whole world and dancing without ceasing. Its caves, with wide open mouths and vast hollows, yawn daily in insatiable beauty, as if devouring the world, drinking the ocean, expelling the darkness within, and exulting with the clouds. The mountain’s dwellings, with bellies like mirrors, are shaded by lush trees that block the sun, their coolness enhanced by the presence of hermitages. Breezes cooled by rivers, lakes, and ponds bring delight wherever Shiva and Parvati are seated. Remembering him as the greatest in every way, Sambhu, the three-eyed one, who had been near Raibhya’s hermitage, vanished and departed. Then, having reached the garden, Maheshvara enjoyed himself with the goddess in the delightful grounds of her inner palace. As time passed and the world’s population increased, two demon brothers, Shumbha and Nishumbha, were born. Through the power of their austerity, Brahma, the supreme lord, granted them invulnerability against all men in the world. Yet, they asked for one exception: “Let the maiden who was not born from a womb, who arises from a portion of Ambika, untouched by any man and unconquerable in valor—let her alone be the cause of our death in battle, should we be overcome by desire for her.” Brahma replied, “So be it.