Upamanyu, the son of Vyāghrapāda, having drunk his fill and seeing his cousin satisfied, turned joyfully to his mother. With innocent eagerness, he said, “Mother, O greatly fortunate ascetic, please give me cow’s milk. I do not wish for just a little, lukewarm milk—I desire the sweet, rich kind.” His words pierced his mother’s heart, and sorrow overwhelmed her. She, the ascetic wife of Vyāghrapāda, embraced her son with deep affection, distressed and lamenting as she recalled her own poverty. Upamanyu, radiant like Rudra, persisted, repeating his request again and again: “Give, give,” forgetting and remembering his desire in turns. Recognizing his insistence, the sage’s wife sought a way to soothe him. She noticed some seeds she had gathered by gleaning, ground them, mixed them with water, and spoke gently to her son. Calling him kindly, “Come, come, my child,” she embraced him and, though afflicted with sorrow, gave him this artificial milk. Upamanyu drank what his mother offered, but was greatly distressed. “This is not milk,” he protested. Seeing his disappointment, his mother, sorrowful, smelled his head, wiped his lotus-like eyes with her hands, and spoke to him. “There are rivers filled with jewels, accessible in heaven and the netherworld,” she explained, “but those without fortune, and those lacking devotion to Śiva, do not see them. Kingdom, heaven, liberation, or food produced from milk—none of these beloved things are attained by those for whom Śiva is not pleased. All comes from the grace of Bhava; nothing arises from the favor of other gods. Those devoted to other deities, afflicted by suffering, wander in delusion. “How can we, always dwelling in the forest, obtain milk here? Where is the means for milk, child? Where are we, forest-dwellers? Because of utter poverty, and being bereft of fortune, I have given you this milk, falsely mixed and churned with water. At your maternal uncle’s house, you drank a little pure, sweet, boiled milk; knowing its taste, you drank it, and now you remember that same kind. Saying, ‘This is not milk that was given,’ you cry and cause me sorrow; without the grace of Śambhu, you have no milk. “Whatever is offered with devotion to the lotus feet of Sāmbā and his attendants—that is the cause of all prosperity. Now, we have not worshipped Mahādeva with wealth; he grants the fruits as spoken, according to the desires of those who seek them. We have not previously worshipped Śiva here with the aim of gaining wealth; therefore, we have become poor, and thus you have no milk. Whatever is given in a previous birth, directed to Śiva, O son, that alone is obtained, not anything else, even if offered to Viṣṇu or another lord.” Hearing these words, true and filled with sorrow, Upamanyu—though still a child—was undisturbed within. Boldly, he spoke: “If Sāmbā, the son, is truly dead from grief, and if Śaṃkara exists, then abandon your sorrow, O greatly fortunate one; all will turn out well. Listen, mother, to my words: if Mahādeva exists anywhere, whether after a long time or soon, I will obtain the ocean of milk.” His mother, her mind greatly pleased by the wisdom of her son, replied, “O dear one, you have considered well and increased my delight. Do not delay—always worship Sāmbā Sadāśiva. Śiva alone is indeed supreme over all, the ultimate cause; by him, the entire world is created, and even Brahmā and others are his servants. We are servants of that Lord, whose prosperity is obtained by his grace; apart from him, we know no other—Śaṃkara, the benefactor of the world. “Abandoning all other gods, with action, mind, and speech, worship only Sāmbā and his attendants, with heartfelt devotion. Of that god of gods, Śiva, the bestower of boons, the mantra ‘namaḥ śivāya’ is said to be the direct expression. All the seventy million great mantras, along with the praṇava, ultimately dissolve into him and again emerge from him. Those mantras, with or without grace, function according to their respective authorities; but this one mantra alone holds all authority, by the command of the Lord. Just as Shiva himself is able to protect all, whether inferior or superior, so too is this mantra always able to do the same. “Indeed, this mantra is more powerful than any other mantra; none other is considered equal to it in the ability to grant complete protection. Therefore, abandoning other mantras, devote yourself to the five-syllable mantra; when it resides within the tongue, nothing here is unattainable. The lower missile, too, is the supreme means of protection for Shaivas; knowing it arises from that, be devoted to it and nothing else. “And the best ash, obtained by me from your father, is pure, perfected by fire, and wards off great calamities. I have also given you the mantra—receive it with my permission; by reciting this alone, your protection will be assured.” Thus instructing him, she uttered, “May Shiva be,” placing those words upon his head at that moment. Upamanyu bowed to his mother and, having heard her words, began his austerity. His mother, full of hope, blessed him, saying, “May the gods bring you good fortune.