In the sacred narrative, the tale unfolds in a forest known as the alternate dwelling of those who are adversaries to the city. Into this revered place, a certain individual, driven by desire for the fragrance of flowers, entered without permission, polluting its sanctity with his presence. His actions, impelled by greed, led him into a fierce and precipitous cave, the very essence of scent drawing him onward. For this transgression, he was struck down by a wrath as formidable as a thunderbolt, a curse descending upon him. Witnessing this, those present, their minds weighed down with sorrow, approached the divine being with hands joined in reverence. The god, seeing their dejection, spoke gently, “Do not grieve so, you whose minds are misguided.” He then recounted a tale from long ago, when the enemy of the city presided over an auspicious assembly. At that time, in the Nandana forest, the deities gathered for the Lord of Gods. Among them, Gajānana and Ṣaḍānana, moved by the curiosity of youth, were eager for fruit. The god addressed his two sons, who stood before him with longing. He declared, “This entire earth, encircled by the world and the netherworld, is before you.” As the Lord of Pārvatī spoke, his face shone with a gentle smile. Then Lambodara, the son whose form resembled the crimson mountain, displayed his cleverness. Triyambaka, seeing this, addressed Heramba, saying, “From this day forth, you are chief among all fruits.” He then announced to all the assembled gods and asuras, “This form of mine is immovable, like the crimson mountain, because of his devotion. Whoever circumambulates this mountain, even if pain comes to their foot, shall be blessed.” By the command of Śambhu, the circumambulation of the crimson mountain was thus established as sacred. “You two as well,” he continued, “adorned by the pride that arises from me, have been instructed. Even if you perform the circumambulation of Aruṇādri in secret, it shall succeed.” In this way, the curse of the great sage—whose body had been dried by the poison of the ocean and who had been angered—was lifted. Turning to the king, the god said, “O foremost of kings, you attained the state of being an animal fit for riding. And I, by the birth of my own limb, took the form of a musk deer. Now, righteous one, you have come here under the pretext of hunting. Because of the fault in mounting the steed, you experienced this condition. But, O king, by your connection, I am now released from the bondage of animal birth.” Having spoken thus, the bearer of the crescent moon wished to return to his own abode. “By the power of Śaṃkara of the crimson mountain, you both have been blessed,” he said. The king’s mind, overwhelmed by the vision, seemed to whirl in awe. Then, the two radiant ones, shining like the moon-crested Lord, spoke: “Understand clearly; at your request, we will tell you the means of deliverance. He is the Lord who governs creation, maintenance, dissolution, and grace in this universe. Now, before your very eyes, the majesty of this god has been revealed. Circumambulate on foot, perfumed with musk, in reverence. Whatever prosperity you possess, O Lord, offer it all. Very soon, you will attain a great accomplishment.” With unwavering mind and deep faith, the king devoted himself to the Lord of Arunachala. Thus concludes the account of the moon-crested radiant ones, as told in the Uttarardha of the Arunachala Mahatmya, within the first Maheshvara Khanda of the Skanda Mahapurana. The sage Nandisha then reflected, “The conduct of these two learned ones is truly remarkable and has been heard.