Those who abandon food that has been offered are made to suffer terribly, for they are cooked upon heated iron, much like food itself placed on a searing plate. Such a soul is dragged to the dreadful region of Kuṃbhīpāka, where he is hung head downward, feet upward, enduring unthinkable torment. One who betrays his master, fierce in his disloyalty, is cast into a blazing pot, his punishment fitting his grievous act. Those who approach the wives of other men are sent into the hell called Krakacana, a place of sharp agony. If a person harbors hatred toward the gods, the twice-born, or the ancestors, or defiles precious gems, or neglects service to fathers, gods, or teachers, he too is doomed to suffer. Accepting gifts from outcastes leads one headfirst into hell, while the ungrateful, the slanderer, the cruel, the one who cheats in measures, or deceives others, all meet grim fates. Those who consume lac, meat, broths, sesame, or intoxicating drinks, as well as honey thieves and destroyers of villages, are destined for the fearsome Vaitaraṇī river, a place of great suffering. Whether their misdeeds are committed by deed, thought, or word, they are swept into that great river of pain. To cross mountains unlawfully is to earn a place in the sword-leaf forest, a realm of sharp and terrible punishment. Such souls are sent to the dreadful hell called Kṛṣṇasūtra, a place so terrible it defies description. Whoever has relations with an outcaste woman, both the man and the woman, are cast into hell together, their actions binding them to suffering. Those who hate their friends are cooked in foul food, their hatred returning to them as torment. If someone is instructed by his own son, he too falls into the food of dogs, a fate of deep humiliation. There, in those hells, the evildoers are brought to be tormented, cooked for their misdeeds. Those who have sinned greatly and refuse to seek atonement suffer these fates. Yet, the supreme atonement for all such sin is the remembrance of Śiva. One who is purified by this remembrance, whose sins are destroyed, does not go to hell; rather, a lamp should be offered before the Lord of gods in his honor. At this point, a gentle question arises: “Tell me all this, dear one, and also the auspicious origin of the lamp.” Seeking knowledge, one went to ask for a boon, and by her he was entreated as well. With earnest devotion, the plea was made: “O Śambhu, be gracious, O divine-eyed one.” That which was described by Bhava is most auspicious, bringing great joy, just as a bee seated on a white lotus enhances the flower’s beauty. “You are the maker of many forms,” she said, “yet you do not listen when words are spoken.” When she addressed him as Bhava, he took her hand. She granted him pleasure, laughing and uttering his name. Remembering the words of the gods, she spoke, her voice filled with anger: “Whenever I become golden in form again…” Thus speaking, she departed for Mount Vindhya. She recalled only those actions and former words. “Because of me, O daughter of the Himalaya, the most beautiful in all the worlds,” he said, and then he left her sight. With his departure, confusion and great fear filled the world. Abandoning their homes, beings fell into deep despair. The entire world lost its light and became a wilderness, for the three eyes of Rudra—sun, moon, and fire—are the world’s very sources of light. In that dreadful, impenetrable darkness that followed, the beings of the world gathered in anxiety. A thought arose among them, seeking a way to restore balance and fulfill their purpose amidst the encompassing gloom.