Even when a fierce tiger approached the goddess with evil intent, she, by her very nature, made no distinction between him and any other being. The tiger, however, was utterly tormented by hunger; his limbs were paralyzed, and his mind was fixed on her alone, thinking, “There is no other meat for me but hers.” And so, he remained there constantly, never leaving her presence. Day and night, the tiger watched the goddess, standing before her ceaselessly, as if engaged in her worship. Witnessing this, compassion welled up in the goddess’s heart. She thought, “He is ever my devotee, and I am his protector from evil beings.” Through the power of her boundless compassion, all three impurities were instantly destroyed in him. In that moment, the tiger truly recognized the goddess for who she was. With this recognition, his hunger vanished, his body regained its strength, and even his innate wickedness was gone. Deep satisfaction blossomed within him. Realizing his own fulfillment with supreme feeling, he immediately became a true devotee and began to serve the supreme goddess with devotion. Transformed, he became a remover of evil even among other wicked beings, and wandered through the forest, now a penitent soul. Meanwhile, the goddess herself undertook even more severe austerities, her penance growing ever more intense. The Daityas—powerful demons—remained persistent in their oppression, and the gods, suffering greatly under this burden, sought refuge with Brahmā. Afflicted by their enemies, the gods poured out their woes to Brahmā, recounting how Śumbha and Niśumbha had received boons through their satisfaction and now tormented the divine hosts. Hearing of the gods’ distress, the Creator Brahmā was filled with compassion. He remembered the ancient story whose cause and foundation was the destruction of the Daityas. Thus entreated, Brahmā, accompanied by the gods, went to the goddess’s hermitage. In his mind, he recalled the deliverance of the gods from suffering, a task to be accomplished through his own initiative. 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 itself. Brahmā bowed to her—the Mother of the world, wife of his own brother Hari and of Rudra, the noble daughter of the Lord of Mountains. Seeing Brahmā arrive, the goddess, along with the hosts of gods, offered him the proper arghya and welcomed him with all due rites. After responding to her hospitality and praising her, the lotus-born Brahmā inquired, as if unaware, about the purpose of her great austerity. “O Goddess,” he asked, “with such severe penance, what is it you seek to accomplish here? For all the fruits of austerity are subject to your will alone. You have already attained the Lord of all worlds, the Supreme Lord, as your husband—surely the fruit of all austerity. Or perhaps all this is but your divine sport and play; yet, it is remarkable, O Goddess, how you endure separation from the Lord.” He continued, “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, even as you became my son-in-law. When the Lord of Mountains was your father and my own father as well, then 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?” Brahmā added, “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, 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.” At the request of the Brāhmaṇas, the goddess, daughter of the mountain, resolved to cast off her outer skin, 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. This power, consisting of Māyā—also known as the sleep of Viṣṇu—was armed with conch, discus, trident, and other weapons, and had eight mighty arms. She was at once gentle and terrible, a mixed form: three-eyed, adorned with the moon, untouched by men, invincible, and exceedingly beautiful. This eternal power was given by the goddess to Brahmā—the very force destined to slay Niśumbha and Śumbha, the lion among Daityas. Brahmā, delighted, gave her a powerful lion to serve as her mount. He instructed that her worship should be performed in the Vindhya mountains with offerings of wine, meat, fish, and cakes. That power, approved by Brahmā and Viśvakarman, after bowing in order to Mother Gaurī and to Brahmā, was duly honored. Surrounded by many powers equal to herself, her own daughters, she set out for the Vindhya mountains, intent on slaying the Daitya lords. There, in battle, those foremost Daityas were slain by her; struck by her arrows and the arrows of Kāma, their bodies and minds were shattered. The full account of that battle is not given here, but it is to be inferred from elsewhere; only what is relevant shall be narrated. Having produced Kauśikī, Gaurī entrusted her to Brahmā. Then, in return, the Grandfather—Brahmā—spoke.