With utmost devotion, she offered sandalwood, fragrant flowers, and other sacred items, along with incense and shining lamps, creating an atmosphere of reverence. In every direction, she invoked Indra and the other deities, especially those who wield the mighty vajra, honoring them through ritual. She worshipped the five-faced forms and performed the prescribed rites for Caṇḍeśvara, following the procedures laid down in the Śiva scriptures, using only the most auspicious substances. Carefully, she arranged her offerings—tubers, roots, fruits, and other natural gifts—presenting them with sincerity. Demonstrating her unwavering resolve, she stood balanced on the tip of her thumb, enduring the fierce heat amid five blazing fires. When the monsoon rains poured down at night, she remained steadfast, letting the streams of water and the clouds envelop her. With her hands and feet, she formed lotus shapes, and with her mouth, she sang praises to the moon. Her compassion extended to all creatures: she fed even the animals with nīvāra rice seeds. She performed ablutions using water from ālavāla fruits, pouring it from beautiful pitchers in her daily rites. The mountain’s own daughter then circumambulated the sacred Śoṇa mountain, reciting the five-syllable mantra and singing hymns to Śiva. Every day, she bowed in reverence to the Lord of the Aruṇācala mountain, performing circumambulation and other acts of worship with devotion. Meanwhile, the enemy of the gods, disregarded by all, had destroyed Indra’s city. This conqueror of worlds, who struck terror even among the Siddhas and Vidyadharas, had become unreachable by even the fiercest of curses. He corrupted the wives of sages and blocked the very path of righteousness. A servant of Hiranyakashipu, another as terrible as Hiranyaksha, he now sought to disrupt the goddess’s penance. Assuming the guise of an ascetic woman, this being approached Girija and addressed her: “O timid one, why do you dwell here in this dreadful forest? Why, in the prime of your youth, are you so indifferent to enjoyment? There are beds of swan’s down and canopies of pearls awaiting you. By good fortune, you have already turned away from the dullness of austerity, gentle one. But know that the lord of the three worlds, Mahisha, king of the Daityas, is aware of all this. Why deny it? Surely he has heard everything by now.” Speaking thus, in words most improper and contrary to the spirit of her austerity, the Daitya woman—her wrath mounting—made a fierce vow. The demon king too, on hearing all that had transpired, had his eyes redden with rage. He gathered his forces—chariots, elephants, horses, and infantry surrounded the area. The blaring of trumpets and the thunder of drums filled the sky, splitting the air with tumult. Ferocious and impossible to subdue, this demon appeared with a terrifying form: massive jaws, a towering crown, a fierce mouth, and dreadful eyes. Hearing this uproar and sensing the disruption of her sacred observance, the goddess mounted the lord of beasts in the crimson valley of the mountain. There, she let forth a lion’s roar, as loud and deep as thunderclouds. In response, the Mothers, incensed by the disturbance, released from their own bodies a circle of Yoginis. Some, radiant with a reddish hue and wielding staffs, rode upon swans. Others, burning with anger, emerged with flaming tridents in hand. Still more departed, leading armies while riding peacocks, and others, in even greater fury, went forth mounted on Garuda. Thus, the goddess and her divine companions prepared to confront the threat, their power and determination shining forth in every direction.