Having resolved all matters, the gods were encouraged to set aside any shame or conflict and return joyfully to their celestial city, guided by Hari, Virinchi, and Indra. After addressing them thus, the Lord of gods—who had destroyed Daksha’s sacrifice—stood with Girija and his attendants for a moment, then vanished from the sky. Relieved of their distress and with their great and auspicious deeds celebrated, the gods departed immediately and happily, led by the many-faced Maghavan, each going as they wished. Meanwhile, Lord Hara, accompanied by the goddess and his attendants, disappeared from sight. Where did he go, and what did he do? His destination was the illustrious Mandara, the best of mountains, adorned with wondrous caves and beloved by the Lord of gods. Mandara became Shiva’s abode for austerities. Upon its summit, Shiva performed profound penance for a long time, and the mountain itself attained the bliss that comes from touching the dust of his lotus feet. The mountain’s beauty is beyond description—even a thousand mouths, speaking for millions of years, could not fully convey it. Even if it were possible, the narrator confesses inability to capture its splendor, for the beauty of other mountains pales in comparison. Yet it can be said that Mandara’s abundance and loveliness make it worthy as the dwelling place of the Lord. For this very reason, Shiva, wishing to please Parvati, made this exceedingly lovely mountain his inner palace. Its foothills, adorned with pure stones and trees, have surpassed the entire world due to the constant presence of Shiva and Parvati. The waters of Mandara, used daily by the divine parents of the world for bathing and drinking, have sanctified the mountain, spreading its merit everywhere. Gentle, cool waterfalls anoint Mandara as the king of mountains, as if with clarified butter. At night, the lofty peak crowned by the moon gleams resplendent, as though beneath the royal umbrella of mountain sovereignty. The mountain is fanned by the playful hands of maidens, as if with the royal fans of sovereignty over all mountains. At dawn, when the sun rises, Mandara, adorned with jewels, stands as if wishing to see its own beauty reflected in a mirror. The chirping of birds, the waving of creepers lifted by the wind, the constant shower of loosened flowers, and the hanging tender leaves all adorn it. Ascetic trees, with tangled creeper-hair, offer victorious blessings, worshipping the mountain king together. Mandara’s peaks face downward, upward, and sideways, making it appear as if falling into the underworld or leaping up from the earth. Surrounded on all sides, it seems to wander through the sky, as if beholding the whole world and dancing without ceasing. Its caves, with wide open mouths and vast hollows, seem to yawn from insatiable beauty. Mandara appears to devour the world, drink the ocean, vomit darkness, and exult with the clouds. Its dwelling places, with bellies like mirrors, are shaded by lush trees that block the sun, their coolness enhanced by hermitages. Breezes cooled by rivers, lakes, and ponds are made fruitful wherever Shiva and Parvati are seated. Remembering Shiva as greatest in every way, Sambhu, the three-eyed one, who was near Raibhya’s hermitage, vanished and departed. He reached the garden and enjoyed himself with the goddess in the delightful grounds of her inner palace. As time passed and the population increased, two demon brothers named Shumbha and Nishumbha were born. Through their austerity, Brahma granted them invulnerability against all men in the world. However, the maiden who was not born from a womb, arising from a portion of Ambika and untouched by any man, possessed unconquerable valor. The demons requested Brahma that only by her alone would their death in battle occur when they were overcome by desire for her. Brahma replied, “So be it.” From that time, Shumbha and Nishumbha conquered Indra and the other gods in battle, seized the world, and forcibly suppressed recitation and sacrificial offerings. For their destruction, Brahma again petitioned the lord of the gods, even censuring and provoking him in secret as needed. He urged that the gods should be given the power born from the treasury of colors—the desireless maiden—who would slay Shumbha and Nishumbha. Thus petitioned by the creator, the blessed blue-red one smiled and spoke as Kali, as if reproaching in secret. Angered, the goddess, golden in color due to her origin, smiled and addressed her husband with words not easily appeased. She challenged him: “If you have such fondness for my color, how can it be restrained for so long a time? Even if you are indifferent, how do you enjoy with me? For nothing is impossible in this world for the lord, master of the universe. For one who delights in his own self, pleasure is not the means to happiness; this is why Kama was forcibly reduced to ashes. Even a woman, beautiful in every limb, who is not desired by her husband, is born in vain, despite all her other qualities. For the enjoyment of the husband alone is the purpose of women’s creation; if this is not so, what use is a woman who is otherwise?” Thus, the story unfolds, revealing the divine abode, the rise of powerful demons, and the profound dialogue between Shiva and Parvati, all rooted in the sacred Mandara mountain.