With her blessing, Upamanyu set out upon a path of intense austerity. He journeyed to the lofty heights of Mount Himavat and, there, sustained himself on nothing but air, his mind unwavering and fixed upon his purpose. On that sacred mountain, he constructed an altar of eight bricks and fashioned a linga from clay. With deep reverence, he invoked the great god Mahadeva—Shiva himself—alongside Ambika and the divine attendants, calling upon the imperishable Lord. Devotedly, Upamanyu worshipped using only the five-syllable mantra, offering wildflowers gathered by his sons. For a long time, he persisted in this supreme austerity, his heart wholly surrendered. During these practices, Upamanyu—young, solitary, and emaciated, yet the noblest among the twice-born—remained steadfast, his mind absorbed in Shiva. But then, sage-demons who had once been cursed by Marichi sought to disrupt his penance. With their demonic powers, they afflicted him, creating obstacles to his austerity. Yet even as he was tormented, Upamanyu endured, continuing his penance with unwavering spirit, his voice ringing out again and again, “Salutations to Shiva!”—each cry filled with remembrance and longing. The power of his devotion was such that, merely upon hearing his cries, those who sought to hinder him fell away. The sages, moved by his perseverance, gathered around him. The force of Upamanyu’s austerity was so great that it illuminated the entire world—both moving and unmoving—casting a radiant glow upon the sages themselves. Witnessing this, the sages, their bodies blazing with brilliance, hastened to Vaikuntha. There, after bowing in reverence, they reported all that had transpired to Hari, the Supreme Lord Vishnu. Hearing their words, Vishnu pondered deeply, wondering at this marvel. Understanding the cause, he resolved to act and swiftly made his way to Mount Mandara, desiring to see the great Lord. Upon seeing Shiva, Vishnu bowed low, hands joined in respect, and spoke: “O Lord, there is a brahmin named Upamanyu who, in his quest for milk, has forsaken all for austerity. By your power, restrain him from this path.” Hearing Vishnu’s plea, Maheśvara replied, “I shall restrain the boy; you may return to your own abode.” Comforted by Shiva’s words, Vishnu reassured the immortals and returned to his own realm. Meanwhile, Pinākī—the Supreme Lord Shiva—resolved to intervene. Assuming the form of Indra, king of the gods, he set out, accompanied by gods, asuras, siddhas, and great serpents. In this splendid guise, riding a magnificent white elephant, he entered the forest of Upamanyu’s austerities. The elephant itself fanned the Lord with a divine yak-tail fan, while Indra, with Śacī by his side, held a shining white parasol. Thus, Sadāśiva, radiant as the moon crowning Mount Mandara, shone in the form of Indra. In this divine form, the Supreme Lord approached Upamanyu’s hermitage to bestow his grace. When Upamanyu beheld Shiva in Indra’s guise, he bowed deeply and spoke with humility: “O Lord of the gods, your presence sanctifies my hermitage. That you, best among gods, have come here yourself, is my greatest blessing.” Seeing the sage standing in reverence, Hara, still bearing Indra’s form, addressed him in a deep, resonant voice: “I am pleased with you. Ask for a boon, O steadfast one. Elder brother of Dhaumya, by your austerity, I will grant you all your desires.” With hands joined, Upamanyu replied, “I ask for devotion to Shiva.” Indra, lord of the three worlds, honored by all the gods, then spoke: “Become my devotee, O best of sages. Worship me alone, and I will grant you every blessing. Abandon Rudra, the formless one. What use is Rudra to you? He has been cast out from the ranks of the gods and is now like a demon.” Hearing these words, the sage, ever reciting the five-syllable mantra, recognized this as an obstacle to righteousness. He replied, “All this you have spoken arises from a tendency to disparage Bhava, and in so doing, you have described the supreme god as without attributes. I do not truly know Rudra, Lord of all gods and lords, father of Brahma, Vishnu, and Mahesha, who is beyond Prakriti. That which the knowers of Brahman call existent and non-existent, manifest and unmanifest, eternal, one and many—I choose that supreme. Free from all arguments of causality, bestower of the fruits of Sāṃkhya and Yoga, worshipped by the knowers of truth—I choose that as the best. There is no higher reality than Shambhu, the cause of all causes, creator of Brahma, Vishnu, and the other gods, who transcends all qualities. What more need be said? I have now realized the great truth. If in another birth I have committed the sin of hearing slander of Bhava, then, having heard such slander, one should immediately abandon one’s own body; by doing so, one quickly attains the world of Shiva.” With fervor, Upamanyu declared, “Let my desire for milk be set aside, O lowest of gods. By slaying you with Shiva’s weapon, I shall abandon this body.” Resolute, he prepared to give up even his wish for milk and to slay Indra. Seizing fearsome ashes, empowered with the Aghora missile, he hurled them at Indra and roared, his mind ablaze with concentration. Remembering the twin feet of Shambhu, Upamanyu prepared to dissolve his own body in yogic fire. At that very moment, as the brahmin stood thus resolved, the Lord—destroyer of Bhaga’s eye—gently restrained his yogic concentration, halting him with compassion.