What need is there, O King, for many other gifts or even for elaborate sacrifices, when a single act of heartfelt devotion can be so powerful? Listen, for I shall recount to you a wondrous event that once took place on the sacred fourteenth day at the end of the month of Phalguna, in the very presence of the great Lord Shiva. On that holy occasion, a man came seeking alms, accompanied by several others. Stricken by the pain of disease, he found himself unable to eat the food offered to him. Instead, he prepared a simple cushion of barley meal and, as night descended, lay down upon it and fell asleep. While he slept, a dog came and carried away the barley meal. When the man awoke and realized what had happened, he was so astonished and disheartened that he approached the threshold of death. This man was none other than Bhima, the father of Damayanti, O best of kings. Year after year, on the same fourteenth day at the end of Phalguna, he would come to that place and offer barley meal in the presence of Lord Achaleshvara. On one such occasion, all the assembled sages, led by the venerable Galava, questioned him: “Why is it that you offer only barley meal and nothing else?” To this Bhima replied, “The greatness of giving barley meal is well known among the sages whose minds are pure. In the past, when I lacked devotion, my barley meal was taken away by a dog. Now, I do not know what merit awaits those who give with devotion. Yet in this sacred place, with a heart full of faith, I am able to realize my own true self through truth.” Hearing these words, the sages were filled with delight and exclaimed, “Excellent! Excellent!” Such, O royal sage, is the power of offering parched grain, as has been told. And whoever listens to this sacred story, narrated by a twice-born with devotion, will surely be blessed. Now, let me tell you further: There is a sight upon seeing which a mortal becomes handsome and radiant. It was at the hermitage of the Vālakhilyas, where the sacred liṅga had fallen, that one came to worship Śambhu (Shiva). I am eager to recount how he worshipped Shiva there. Armed with his own arrow, he stood behind Shiva. Out of fear, the destroyer of Tripura—Shiva himself—departed and reached the holy city of Vārāṇasī. From there, he journeyed to Prayāga, then further to Kedāra, and onward to Gokarṇa, Prabhāsa, and the sacred region of Kṛmijāṅgala. What need is there to recount in detail all the holy places and shrines? Wherever the great god, moved by fear, traveled, O King, his presence sanctified those places. After some time, Shiva returned near Mount Arbuda, standing there on one foot, his gaze unwavering. He remained silent, filled with both joy and sorrow for his beloved. For the one who was overcome by anger, from his third eye—O King—came forth a terrible power. With bow and arrow in hand, on the slope of that mountain, an event of great significance unfolded. Afterwards, Shiva went to Kailāsa, the foremost of mountains and revered by the gods. There, his beloved, overwhelmed by grief for her husband, cried out in deep distress. Gathering wood, she built a funeral pyre; but just then, the illustrious king heard a voice from the sky. The celestial voice proclaimed, “By the grace of Shiva, pleased by your devotion, you shall once again obtain your husband.” Hearing these words, she immediately arose, slender-waisted and resolute. She undertook vows, gave gifts, recited sacred texts, performed sacrifices, and engaged in great austerities. For a thousand years she persevered, until at last Maheshvara (Shiva) was satisfied with her devotion. She prayed, “May my beloved husband, Kama, be restored to me with his body uninjured.” As soon as she spoke these words, he appeared before her at once, holding a bow made of sugarcane and arrows tipped with flowers. Accompanied by Rati, Kama bowed down to Maheshvara in reverence. Such is the power of devotion and the grace of Lord Shiva, O King—may those who hear this sacred tale be filled with faith and blessedness.