Those who regularly beheld the sacred form of Karkaṭeśvara found their lives transformed. They attained celestial chariots radiant like the sun, fulfilling every desire of their hearts. In that divine realm, they enjoyed great pleasures, surrounded by thousands of delightful women, reveling in supreme happiness. When their time in that blissful state came to an end, they were elevated to the abode of Viṣṇu, where they remained for the measure of their accumulated merit. Joyfully, from Viṣṇu’s world, they reached the world of Brahmā, their souls uplifted ever higher. Indeed, the very merit gained by performing the ten-horse sacrifice could be attained by pilgrimage to these holy places. Simply by seeing Karkaṭeśvara, all accomplishments were within reach. O great goddess, at the root of every prosperous kingdom lies prosperity, security, and the blessing of good rains. Throughout the ages—Kṛta, Tretā, Dvāpara, and even into Kali—the king has been central to the world’s order. In this world, O Pārvatī, there lived a king named Madāndha. At the junction of the Kali and Dvāpara ages, through his own fault, calamity befell the land. The thousand-eyed lord, Indra, withheld the rains and acted contrary to his usual benevolence. As a result, the rivers shrank in their flow, and some vanished altogether. Agriculture and cattle-keeping were ruined, and the markets fell silent. Cities became mostly empty, villages were burnt down, and even the ascetics abandoned their hermitages, wandering without refuge. All creation, both moving and unmoving, was shaken to its roots. In their desperation, the beings of the world sought refuge in Janārdana, the god of gods and the shelter of all. From Brahmā’s world and every other realm, they approached him, whose virtues are incomparable and auspicious. By his own will, Janārdana created for himself a palace, a bed, and a seat. Free from old age, death, fear, and all disease, the gods prostrated themselves before him and offered their praise: “You are Brahmā, Rudra, and the great Indra, O best of gods.” Truth and austerity were declared supreme. Thus praised by all, the god of gods, radiant and beautiful, spoke to the assembled deities. Then Krishna addressed the gods: “What shall I do for you today, O gods? Tell me the means by which satisfaction or dissatisfaction may arise.” The gods replied, seeking guidance. Krishna instructed them: “All of you, go to the auspicious and great Kālavan forest. There, within the liṅga, all the clouds that bring rain are indeed present. From the god Pratīhāreśvara, know that Īśāna is present. Arrive at the great Kālavan, where the supreme liṅga abides.” There, the gods were to offer their salutations: “Obeisance to Maheśa, obeisance to the endless one, the garlanded. Obeisance to the yogi, to the Veda, to you of tawny matted locks. Obeisance to you of pure, resounding laughter, to you, the crested one. Obeisance to the ender, to the auspicious one, to you, the three-eyed. Obeisance to the one whose body is yoga, to you who are always the all. With good rain, O lord of gods, protect us who have taken refuge.” As they offered these prayers, from the midst of the liṅga, a mighty presence arose, resounding across the sky. Suddenly, all became devoid of brightness—nothing at all could be seen. By the majesty of that god of gods, the gods were satisfied. When he dispelled the darkness, the clouds themselves vanished. Then, pure and shining lights circled Soma, the moon, to the right, illuminating the world once more.