The great god, resolved to create a mighty commander for the army of the gods, decided to bring forth this being from his own body. With this firm intention, the Lord of the gods swiftly summoned Kāma, the god of love. He addressed Kāma, saying, “O Kāma, arrange matters so that the god may desire the goddess.” Hearing these words from Hari, Kāma smiled and replied with confidence. At that very moment, after Kāma had spoken, Shakra, the king of the gods, took action. Kāma, having gained the assistance of Madhu and Mitra, set out with his wife to the place where the Lord of the gods dwelled in the Devadāru forest. There, sheltered by the shade of a mango tree, Kāma readied his most enchanting arrow. As the god sat there, he abandoned his deep meditation and vows, becoming joyful—yet this joy was without true delight or awareness. In that moment, he saw desire itself, personified and filled with anger, standing beneath the mango tree. Sensing the disturbance, the god vanished swiftly from that place, taking his attendants with him. In the aftermath, Kāma was reduced to ashes, and his wife, seeing her beloved husband thus destroyed, was overwhelmed by deep sorrow and lamented bitterly. Yet, she was consoled with compassion, as one would comfort a dear friend in profound distress. Though Ananga, the bodiless Kāma, was now absent from all actions, he continued to fulfill the desires of friends, as directed by divine order. It was declared that, through contemplation of Śambhu (Śiva), fulfillment would surely come to pass without doubt. A son would be born, possessing a physical body, named Pradyumna, who would become her husband. Meanwhile, in the house of Himavat, the goddess Uma pondered these events. She wondered, “How will the god become my husband? How will Kāma be restored?” Having thus reflected, she gathered together with her companions. Through the rainy season, she practiced austerities in the open sky, and in winter, she lay upon water. Śiva, observing her steadfast austerity during his own period of celibacy, beheld Uma—her slender waist and delicate limbs radiant in the bloom of youth. He wondered at her devotion and purpose. In response, Uma spoke truthfully and sweetly. Considering her words, Hara rejoiced in his own heart, pleased with the unfolding of his purpose. When the daughter of the mountain heard his words, she could not contain her feelings and revealed her own divine form—the three-eyed goddess, holding the trident. Bhavānī became bashful before the Lord, lowering her face in modesty, while I myself exerted effort to win Parvati for Śiva. Having spoken thus, the god vanished, and the goddess returned to her father’s house. Upon arriving, she and her companions bowed and remembered the Supreme Lord. Then, the Lord addressed all the assembled sages at the house of the mountain king. The sages agreed to the union, saying, “So be it,” and made all arrangements together with Śambhu. The king of mountains, Himavat, offered water for washing hands and feet, and seats were graciously accepted. When Himavat declared, “Given,” the auspicious wedding day was set. All present declared to Śaṃkara, “Śivā has been given by Himavat.” Then Brahmā, Indra, and the other gods prepared all the materials for the wedding. With the joyous sounds of conches and drums, Brahmā and the other immortals gathered. Śiva married Parvati according to the prescribed rites, and then returned with her to his own abode. Meanwhile, the gods, still anxious, sent Agni to approach Maheśvara. Agni, greatly embarrassed, received Śiva’s seed in his own mouth, but unable to contain it, Agni cast it out, and it fell into the middle of the sacred Gaṅgā. At that time, the six wives of the seven sages came to the river Jāhnavī to bathe, marking the next turn in this divine unfolding.