Along the sacred banks, the atmosphere was vibrant with ritual and devotion. People carried water in pots, pitchers crafted from lotus leaves, auspicious vessels, and other containers and ladles in their hands. They brought water and fresh flowers ceaselessly—for themselves, for others, and especially for the gods. Some stood carefully upon submerged stones in the water, mindful not to touch those of lower status, their bodies dusted with sacred ash, observing the proper conduct. Elsewhere, others immersed themselves or emerged from the water, some sat upon stones, offering sesame seeds with husks, flowers, and discarded blades of sacred grass. After making offerings to the gods, sages, and ancestors, they presented water to the learned twice-born who gathered daily for bathing. At every spot, they performed various offerings of food and flowers, fanned the altars, and worshipped with solar water and other rites. The scene was animated not only by human devotion but by the presence of animals: elephants from scattered herds submerged and emerged from the waters; deer, antelope, and horses arrived, driven by thirst. Peacocks and noble elephants drank and departed, while bulls struck the banks and shone as they faced one another. The banks echoed with the calls of noble ducks in some places, the cries of cranes in others, the cooing of cuckoos elsewhere, and the humming of bees in others still. Birds living in the trees bathed and drank, constantly making affectionate sounds as if conversing among themselves. The branches along the banks were filled with cuckoos calling day and night, reciting their names, exhausted by the heat. On the northern shore of that lake, beneath a wish-fulfilling tree, upon a platform of diamond stone, and seated on a soft deerskin, Sanatkumara sat. He always appeared as a youth, and had just risen from meditation, his mind unwavering. Worshipped by sages and honored even by the greatest yogis, the sages of Naimisha saw him, bowed, and approached. As they inquired about his arrival, a tumultuous sound of celestial drums resounded in the sky. At that very moment, a radiant aerial chariot appeared, shining like the sun, surrounded by countless leaders of Shiva’s attendants. It was crowded with celestial nymphs, encircled by the daughters of Rudra, resounding with the beats of drums and murajas, and accompanied by melodies of flutes and lutes. The chariot was richly adorned with canopies of various jewels, splendid with strings of pearls, and attended by sages, perfected beings, celestial musicians, yakshas, charanas, and kinnaras. Dancers, singers, and musicians surrounded it, and it bore the emblem of the heroic bull and a staff made of vidrama wood. Honored with a grand gateway and a banner, worthy of reverence, in the center of the chariot, between two fly-whisks, beneath a jeweled staff and a pure white parasol, sat a figure like the moon, upon a divine lion-throne with his illustrious consort. He was resplendent in glory and form, with three eyes, surrounded by ramparts signifying the Lord’s recognition. It seemed as if the unbreakable command of the Creator of the universe had arrived, as if Shiva’s universal grace stood manifest before all. There was the son of Shilada himself, bearing the blessed trident and boar-weapon, chief of Shiva’s hosts, like another Lord of the universe. Capable of restraint and favor even towards the creators of the world, he was four-armed, noble-bodied, adorned with the crescent moon. A serpent adorned his neck, the moon crowned his head, and he possessed sovereignty and active power. It was as if liberation itself was complete, as if omniscience had taken form. Seeing him, the son of Brahma and the sages were filled with joy. Sanatkumara stood up with joined palms, offering himself as if to his very self. As the chariot descended to earth, he bowed down like a staff to the god, praised him, and addressed the sages: “These six families have long been engaged in the Naimisha sacrifice, having come here by Brahma’s command, desiring this from the beginning.” Hearing the words of the son of Brahma, Nandi, with a mere glance, instantly cut their bonds, granting them Shaiva law, divine knowledge, and yoga, before returning to the side of the gods. All these events were directly spoken by Sanatkumara to Vyasa, the revered teacher, and by the illustrious Vyasa to me, and now I have told it to you in summary. This jewel of a Purana, the ordinance of the ancient Lord, is not to be told to those ignorant of the Veda, nor to unfaithful disciples or unbelievers; for if given out of delusion, it leads to hell. But to those who, with devotion and proper conduct, have received, studied, or listened to what has been given on this path, happiness is granted—the gateway to righteousness, the three aims of life, and liberation in the end. Through the path of the Purāṇas, you and I have mutually benefited each other. Now, my desires fulfilled, I shall depart. May auspiciousness always be with us all. When the sacrifice was completed, the sages, having fulfilled their vows and the great rite, established their residence near Vārāṇasī in the age of Kali, when people are tainted by sense objects. Then, desiring complete freedom from worldly bonds, having observed the vow of devotion to Paśupati, and possessing complete knowledge and concentration, they attained supreme bliss, beyond reproach. Thus the Śiva Purāṇa is now completed; it is beneficial and should be recited with care and listened to with equal diligence. It should not be spoken to an atheist, one without faith, a deceitful person, one who is not devoted to Maheśa, or one who is only outwardly righteous. By hearing this even once, sin is reduced to ashes; the non-devotee gains devotion, and the devotee attains the fullness of devotion. By hearing it again, true devotion arises, and by further hearing, liberation is attained. Therefore, those who seek liberation should listen to it repeatedly.