Andhakasudana, seeing concern in the heart of the blessed one, spoke gently, “Do not fear, O blessed one; in time, all will be addressed as it should.” With this assurance of safety, Andhakasudana dismissed Mukunda and the others, granting them peace. Long ago, because of a hidden wound, the goddess was affectionately called ‘Kali.’ There, by her own will, the supreme goddess shed her skin. From this act, she became known as Kauśikī—the one born from the skin—and as Kālī, dwelling upon the mighty slopes of Mount Vindhya. Meanwhile, the goddess Gaurī also resided on that same beautiful peak. As time passed, Gaurī, united with longing, gave birth to Pārvatī. The tradition tells that Nārāyaṇa and the Four-faced One, Brahmā, spoke together about these marvels. The two divine children, growing in grace and wisdom, gazed lovingly upon their parents. Their days were filled with joy and learning—sometimes they played the vīṇā, filling the air with melodious music; sometimes they delighted in drawing pictures. At other times, they engaged in conversations about knowledge and tradition, or marveled at wondrous objects. They gathered flowers, played in the waters, and were honored by Maināka and worshipped by Menā. The pleasures of dice amused them, and lively conversations filled their moments. When something was lost in the game, she would reclaim it and return to her husband, her heart full of delight. Thus, the two divine parents of all that moves and all that is still dwelt serenely among the golden mountains and beyond. There, the goddess satisfied the people with nourishing food and refreshing drink. At twilight, she would often sit with eyes closed in meditation, her mind tranquil and deep. In such moments, it was thought, “Surely now, some fortunate woman is meditating.” Yet, who can truly know the crooked state of men’s minds? She wondered, “If today he holds kindness toward me in his heart, let it be so. From this day forth, I am your servant, won by austerities—so he says.” But in women whose minds are clouded by delusion, love is not always equal or constant. Thus, as affection mingled with anger, the goddess’s mind became troubled. Her eyes grew red and brimming with tears, streams of weeping flowing down her cheeks. The mark of her tilaka, resting upon her brows, was broken apart. The weight of her inner anger made her lower lip tremble. Parvati’s cheeks flushed deeply with emotion, and her heart trembled within her breast. She thought to herself, “Surely this is due to my lack of good fortune. Now, I will go somewhere else; what is there here for me alone?” With her eyes closed, she resolved quietly to depart. Yet Ganga, ever affectionate, continued to nurture her sons. Having made up her mind, Parvati swiftly withdrew from the Lord’s side. She was accompanied by Calavati, Malyavati, Malini, Vijaya, and Jaya. Together, they wandered through sacred mountains, forests, and cities. Roaming at the foot of the Sahya mountains, in the southern region known as Dravida, they found a place of good retreat. Before them, all was radiant and red, glowing in the distance. In the valleys below, the hermitages of ascetics could be seen. Filled with reverence, they said, “Let us go and observe these holy hermitages.