With a gentle and gracious heart, I spoke to the Brahmin before me, O Pārvatī. I told him of a sacred cave, where the meritorious liṅga has dwelled since seven aeons past—a place of great auspiciousness. There, I said, he would behold the liṅga, arisen through the cycles of time, embodying purity and divine power. I explained that sin—born of desire and anger, and accompanied by greed and delusion—could be washed away by the presence of this liṅga. Hearing my words, the Brahmin, learned in the Vedas, listened intently. With disciplined resolve, he departed, bowing repeatedly in reverence. When he reached the cave, he saw the liṅga, supreme in its austerity and radiance. At that very moment, O goddess, voices of the gods resounded in the sky. They proclaimed that by merely beholding the liṅga, the Brahmin had attained a rare and difficult success. The gods revealed that those who approach the Lord of the Cave with supreme devotion—whether on the eighth or fourteenth day, or through determined effort—would be blessed. Even those who have committed thousands of sins, or the gravest transgressions such as killing a Brahmin, drinking liquor, theft, or violating the wife of one’s teacher, or have accumulated inauspicious deeds over countless births, would find their sins destroyed by beholding the liṅga. All embodied beings on earth, afflicted by great sins, can find deliverance there. Having spoken thus, O Goddess, the divine sage Maṅkaṇaka, twice-born and wise, declared: “This, O Goddess, is the power that destroys sin, as has been described. The liṅga removes all sins and destroys the misdeeds of men.” Now, O Goddess, hear of another tale. There was once a leader of the Gaṇas named Ḍhuṇḍha, who resided on Mount Kailāsa. Driven by curiosity and his own will, he journeyed to the realm of Indra. There he witnessed delightful gestures—beautiful movements of the eyes and hands, intricate poses like the needle-pierced, and hand-positions such as the flag and others. Indra himself, along with the gods, kept his gaze fixed upon the dancer’s face. Meanwhile, Ḍhuṇḍha, playful in his manner, acted mischievously. Rambhā, absorbed in her dance, was struck by a bouquet of flowers. Indra’s voice thundered: “Fall, you, to the world of humans! You have disrupted the performance.” Thus, Rambhā fell to the mortal realm, unconscious and bewildered in her senses. Lamenting her fate, she cried: “Alas, I have received the fruit of injustice, having acted out of delusion. By taking refuge in the path of righteousness, may I attain success.” With this resolve, she undertook austerities on the great mountain Maheṃdra. But when her efforts did not yield the desired result, she turned to the great banks of the Ganga—the Godavari, the Bhimarathi, the Kaushiki, the Sharada, and other auspicious rivers. Yet, her pilgrimage and austerities proved fruitless; the results remained in vain. At that moment, O Goddess, a bodiless voice spoke from the heavens: “All the sacred places on earth, beginning with Prayaga, are sanctified by the presence of a most holy liṅga, which accomplishes all aims. By the grace of that liṅga, you will again attain Shiva.” Hearing this divine message, Rambhā and her companions sought out the auspicious liṅga, bestower of all prosperity. From the midst of the liṅga, then, a voice issued forth, O son of Parvati, further revealing the power and grace bestowed by Shiva’s sacred presence.