Moved by compassion, it was said that even the tiger, though it had committed many misdeeds, could attain supreme accomplishment through the goddess’s grace—what obstacle could there be to her mercy? At this, Gauri, remembering her own highest nature and prompted by Brahma, gently withdrew from her arduous austerities. After Brahma took his leave and vanished from sight, the goddess beheld her mother Menā and her father Himavat together. Bowing reverently, she soothed her parents, who grieved deeply at the thought of separation from their beloved daughter. Yet, devoted to penance and duty, Gauri, beloved of asceticism, prepared to journey toward the forest hermitages. As she departed, tears fell from her eyes like delicate flowers, and the birds perched above in the trees cried out plaintively, sharing in her sorrow. Distressed and restless, as if lamenting, she spoke to her companions, her heart yearning for a vision of her husband. Out of affection, she placed the tiger before her, as if it were her own child, and her radiant presence illuminated all ten directions. Gauri then journeyed to Mandara, where her husband, the great Lord Shiva—the creator, sustainer, and destroyer of all worlds—resided. Assuming a divine and luminous form, the mountain’s daughter entered Shiva’s abode, adorned and resplendent. As she approached, Shiva noticed the Gaṇeśas stationed at the palace gate. The doorkeepers, eager and anxious for the goddess’s arrival, quickly allowed her in, and she beheld Shiva within. Inside, the chief Gaṇas honored her with words of devotion and affection. Gauri bowed respectfully to Triambaka, the three-eyed Lord. Before she could rise from her bow, Shiva embraced her with both arms, enveloping her in great joy. Though he wished to hold her on his lap, she sat first on the couch; but gently, Shiva lifted the smiling goddess onto his lap. Smiling, her eyes wide and bright as if drinking in his face, Shiva was the first to speak, eager for conversation. He said, “That time has passed, O beautiful one, when anger kept us apart and no means of reconciliation could be found. Even by your own will, time seemed to stand still, and you did not change your color; your nature has captured my mind, O lovely-browed one, and brought me concern. “How could that supreme feeling have been forgotten, when, by the union of our own will, no impurity of mind can arise? If, like ordinary people, there were any cause for displeasure between us, then such a thing would not exist anywhere else in the moving and unmoving world. “I am established at the summit of Agni, and you are situated at the peak of Soma; together, the universe, composed of Agni and Soma, is sustained by us both. For the welfare of the world, we act with bodies formed by our own will; if we were separated, the world would be left without support. “There is another cause, determined by scriptural reasoning: just as word and meaning are inseparable, so too is this world, both stationary and moving. You are the nectar of speech itself, I am the supreme nectar of meaning; both are immortal, so how could separation come between us? “You are the bringer of knowledge, I am the one to be known through your awareness; how could there be division between us, whose nature is knowledge and the known? I do not create or recreate this world through action; since everything is attained by command alone, command is indeed superior. “Because sovereignty relies solely on command and independence, what kind of sovereignty would I have if separated from command? There is never any state of separation between us; for the sake of the gods’ affairs, I have performed actions only as a display. “There is nothing unknown to you, so why have you become angry? Then, for the protection of the three worlds, your anger has also been directed at me. Whatever is harmful to beings is certainly not found in you, O Priyamvada, the supreme Lord manifest.” The birthplace of those whose essence is love is always natural and uncontrived. Her own husband, having spoken gently and truthfully, awaited her reply, and Gauri smiled. Out of modesty, Kauśikī spoke nothing that could be described; but now the account of the goddess is told. “Has the goddess not been seen by the gods, she who was created by me as Kauśikī? Such a maiden has never existed nor will exist in the world. Her strength, power, residence in the Vindhya mountains, her victory, and the slaying of Śumbha and Niśumbha in battle, are all hers. “She always bestows visible results for the world, and for the constant protection of the worlds, Brahmā will forever proclaim her.” As the goddess spoke, she commanded her companion to bring the tiger before her. Seeing the tiger, the goddess said again, “The tiger has been brought by the gods as a means; look, none of my devotees is like him. By him, my sacred grove was protected from evil groups; he is indeed my devoted follower, confident in his own protection. “Having left your own land, you have come here for my favor; if you have affection for me, then show me the highest love. By Nandin’s command, he himself, along with guards bearing those marks, always stands at the entrance to the inner quarters, O Lord.” Thus, in this way, the goddess’s compassion, wisdom, and love were revealed, as she reunited with Shiva, honored her devotee, and assured the welfare of all worlds.