Thus, when the great goddess spoke, Vamadeva, with a gentle smile, did not restrain her. He wished to fulfill the purpose of the gods, and so allowed her to proceed. Sati, the devoted wife, circled her husband in reverent farewell. Though her heart was heavy with sorrow at their separation, she controlled her grief and made her way to Mount Himavat. Out of deep affection, Sati chose once more the very place where she had previously performed austerities with her companions, intending to undertake penance there again. Upon arriving at her parents’ home, she bowed respectfully and informed her father and mother of all that had transpired. With their consent, Sati returned to the forest of penance, set aside her ornaments, bathed, and took on the pure attire of an ascetic. Resolutely, she prepared to perform a most severe and difficult penance, fixing her mind constantly upon the lotus feet of her husband. She meditated on the transient liṅga, worshipping it according to prescribed external rites at the three junctions of the day, offering forest flowers, fruits, and other simple gifts. Holding firm to the thought that the fruit of her penance would be granted by the one who alone could assume the form of Brahma, she continued her austerities unceasingly. As time passed and her penance deepened, a great tiger of wicked intent appeared before her. Yet, as he approached, his body became stiff, as if painted with strange patterns, unable to move near her. The goddess, by her very nature, did not distinguish the tiger as she would any ordinary being, even though he had come with evil purpose. Tormented by hunger, the tiger thought, “There is no other meat for me but hers,” and remained there, watching her constantly, day and night, as if engaged in her worship. Compassion arose in the goddess’s heart: “He is ever my devotee, and I am his protector from evil beings.” By the power of her compassion, all three impurities within the tiger were instantly destroyed, and he recognized the goddess. His hunger ceased, his stiffness vanished, his innate wickedness was gone, and satisfaction filled him. Realizing his own fulfillment with supreme feeling, he became a true devotee and served the supreme goddess. Now transformed, he wandered the forest of penance, removing evil even among other wicked beings. Meanwhile, the goddess’s austerity grew ever more intense and severe. Because the Daityas persisted in their oppression, the gods, afflicted by their enemies, sought refuge with Brahmā. They revealed their suffering, explaining how Śumbha and Niśumbha had received powerful boons through satisfaction and now tormented them. Hearing of the gods’ distress, the Creator Brahmā, filled with compassion, remembered the story whose cause and foundation was the destruction of the Daityas. Thus entreated, Brahmā, accompanied by the gods, went to the goddess’s hermitage, recalling in his mind the deliverance of the gods from suffering that was to be accomplished by his own effort. There, the foremost of the gods beheld the supreme Lady Bhavānī, established in the highest austerity, as if she were the very foundation of the universe. Brahmā bowed to her—the Mother of the world, wife of his own brother Hari and of Rudra, noble daughter of the Lord of Mountains. Seeing Brahmā arrive, the goddess, together with the hosts of gods, offered him the proper arghya and welcomed him with due rites. After responding to her words of hospitality and praising her, the lotus-born Brahmā inquired, as if unaware, about the purpose of her austerity: “With such severe austerity, O Goddess, what is to be accomplished here? For all the fruits of austerity are subject to your will alone. You have already obtained the Supreme Lord as your husband, the Lord of all worlds—the fruit of all austerity. Or perhaps all this is but your sport and play; yet, it is remarkable, O Goddess, how you endure separation from the Lord. “At the beginning of creation, it is said you were born from the Lord; then, among beings, you were my first-born son. Again, when for the increase of beings Bhava was born from your forehead, you became my teacher, as well as my son-in-law. When the Lord of Mountains was your father—and mine as well—you became my grandfather, O ancestor of the worlds. Thus, you, who regulate the course of the worlds, have already fulfilled the duties of a husband in the past; how then should I speak again of a husband for you? “Why say more? If this dark complexion of mine is abandoned, by the arrangement of sattva I am able to become Gaurī. For what purpose, O Goddess, have you performed such severe austerity? Is your own will not sufficient? For such play is indeed yours. Even your play, O Mother of the world, is for the welfare of the worlds; therefore, let some desired fruit be accomplished by this of mine. “The two Daityas named Niśumbha and Śumbha, having received boons from me, have become arrogant and oppress the gods; their destruction has been ordained through you. Enough of delay here—become steadfast in a moment, and as your power is released today, death will come to those two.” Requested by the Brāhmaṇas, the goddess, daughter of the mountain, cast off her outer skin with resolve, and thus Gaurī was manifested. From that shed skin, Kauśikī by name, also called Kālī, dark as a rain cloud and a maiden, came into being.