The daughter of the mountain, Parvati, devoted herself to worship at the sacred Śoṇa mountain. With deep reverence, she circumambulated the mountain, reciting the five-syllable mantra and offering hymns to Lord Śiva. Each day, she bowed to the Lord of the Aruṇācala mountain, performing circumambulation and other ritual observances. Meanwhile, a formidable enemy of the gods, long disregarded, had destroyed the city of Indra. This conqueror of all worlds was a terror even to the Siddhas and Vidyadharas, and had become unreachable, immune even to the fiercest curses. He corrupted the wives of sages and obstructed the path of righteousness. This wicked one was the servant of Hiranyakashipu, another like Hiranyaksha. Then, seeking to disrupt Parvati’s austerities, the demon assumed the guise of an ascetic woman and approached Girija, Parvati herself. With feigned concern, she said, “O timid one, why do you dwell here in this dreadful forest? Why, in the bloom of youth, are you so indifferent to enjoyment? You could have a bed made of swan’s down, canopies of pearls—by good fortune, you have already abandoned the dullness of austerity, O gentle one. But there is the lord of the three worlds, Mahisha, king of the Daityas. Why deny it? Surely he, the lord, has heard everything by now.” Thus, she spoke to Parvati in the most improper and utterly contrary manner. Enraged by this, in the form of a Daitya woman, she made a vow in great anger. The demon king, hearing all this, his eyes reddened with rage. He assembled his forces—chariots, elephants, horses, and infantry surrounded him on all sides. The blaring of trumpets and the clamor of drums echoed so loudly that the sky seemed to split. Ferocious and hard to subdue, ever-roving, he appeared terrifying, with massive jaws, a great crown, a fierce mouth, and dreadful eyes. Hearing this tumult, the goddess Parvati, her observance disrupted, mounted the lord of beasts in the crimson mountain valley. There, she produced a lion’s roar, loud as thunderclouds. From their own bodies, the Mothers, angered, released the circle of Yoginis. Some, with a reddish hue and wielding staffs, rode on swans. Others, enraged, emerged holding flaming tridents. Still others departed, accompanied by armies, riding peacocks. Some, with greater fury, went forth riding Garuda. Likewise, tiger-mounted ones, radiant as blue lotuses, set out. With wrathful, red, thousand-eyed forms, some rode on elephants with spotted hides. Others, mounted on horses, gathered together, shining like lightning. Outside the asura hermitage, four crore sixty lakh Yoginis assembled. Between the circle of Yoginis and the demon host, a fierce battle erupted. The crowns of the demons were shattered by arrows released by the Yoginis. Rivers of blood flowed, with kaishika grass as their reeds. Ghouls, mounting the beaks of vultures as if they were palaces, drank from skulls of demon warriors, filled with the blood-liquor of evil demons. Flocks of vultures seized entrails, mistaking them for ropes, as the battle raged on.