Brahmā, the great creator, looked upon the newcomer before him and asked, “Who are you? For what reason have you come here, and why?” Hearing these words, the visitor bowed respectfully and replied, “O blessed Lord of creatures, instruct me—what would you have me do?” Brahmā answered, “Moved by my desire to create, I have brought forth the progenitors of all beings. You, above all, are foremost in the creation of living things; the world itself is under your authority.” Thus addressed by Brahmā, O Goddess, Smara—Kāma, the god of love—vanished from sight. Yet, because my command was not fulfilled, from the fire of your eye, O Goddess, he appeared again, bowing with hands joined before Brahmā. “Be gracious, Lord of gods,” he pleaded, “for I have no other refuge.” Brahmā, moved by his devotion, said, “Because your dedication to me is without equal, O wise one, your presence shall remain—in the glances of women, in the curling of their tresses, in springtime, in the song of the cuckoo, in moonlight, and at the gathering of clouds. Women are truly immortal, blessed, and the very cause of worldly life. By these excellent women, the world itself is brought under control, and autonomy has been established because of the honor given to them. Indeed, women are the very source of fear, even for the gods—including mighty Indra. Through them, defeat may arise, and a terrible helplessness prevail.” Having thus spoken, Brahmā dismissed Manmatha. United once more with Rati and with delight, Manobhava—the god whose banner bears the fish—set forth. He subdued scholars, ascetics, heroes, the wise, and even those who had conquered their senses. He overpowered spirits, ghosts, piśācas, yakṣas, gandharvas, and kinnaras alike. For my sake, he exerted himself in every way, pondering again and again, “Who but I is able to agitate that great god?” With this resolve, he came to where I was deep in austerities. Kāma saw me there, my matted locks piled high like a mountain peak, seated upright in meditation, my gaze fixed at the tip of my nose. Through the opening of my hand, Madana—the god of love—entered my heart. My divine contemplation, my samādhi, was manifest as direct perception of the goal, but I became truly mad, overtaken by the distortion born of Madana. Within my own heart, I beheld Manmatha, the bringer of what is unwholesome. If he enters a yogin, that yogin may fall into a non-human birth. Meanwhile, Madana himself was greatly tormented. At the root of a mango tree, he became a friend of the spring. The arrow of love he shot reached my very heart. From the spark of my eye, the denizens of heaven cried out in alarm. When Kāma was thus burned, Rati was plunged into grief. She lamented, “Alas, lord! Alas, my very life! Alas, master, why do you abandon me?” As she wept, a bodiless voice spoke, by the grace of the God of gods and also of Śiva. At that very moment, O goddess, I was entreated. “By this, O Lord, creation on earth has been destroyed.” Then I spoke to Rati, who was speaking in distress: “Therefore, by my favor, I shall restore life to your beloved’s body, though it was burned. Henceforth, he shall move among beings as Ananga, the bodiless one.