Desiring to end his own life, the troubled soul raised his hand to sever his head, but the sacred fire itself intervened, restraining his desperate act. It is said that the fate of one doomed to be slain by another is difficult to avert, but to prevent the self-destruction of one so determined is even harder still. "Do not die," came the counsel, "for with death, all stories and deeds in this world come to an end." A blessing was pronounced: "May my son, through your unparalleled energy, become the conqueror of the three worlds. He will be mighty as the wind, able to take any form at will, and skilled in the use of weapons. Whatever you set your mind upon, my son, that shall you accomplish." Thus empowered, the son sought out the Yaksha Malavata, who was surrounded by his fellow Yakshas, amidst elephants, buffaloes, horses, cows, and flocks of goats and sheep. In the beautiful queen Trihāyaṇī, endowed with great virtue, destiny stirred, and the journey began. Compelled by fate, he entered the netherworld and returned to his own palace. Though accused of wrongdoing, he made his way to Malavata, accompanied by others, to that sacred and excellent region of the Yakshas. There, a pure son was born—a buffalo, wondrously able to assume any form at will. The noble woman approached Diti, ever preserving her own virtue. Suddenly, with swift determination, a sword was drawn, and the buffalo was attacked. Yet the virtuous woman was protected by the Guhyakas, who restrained the buffalo, preventing harm. In the ensuing chaos, the Daitya fell into a divine lake and perished. The survivor took refuge among the Yakshas, driving away wild beasts, O sage. The woman, dark-complexioned and steadfast, was placed upon the funeral pyre and ascended it with her departed husband. In the aftermath, the Yakshas were driven away by a terrifying figure, sword in hand, save for the buffalo, the son of Rambha. This buffalo, mighty as he was, conquered all the gods—Indra, Rudra, Arka, and the Maruts—everywhere. The great lords of the Asuras anointed him king after he had defeated Shambara, Taraka, and others. The Moon, Indra, and the Sun abandoned their realms, and righteousness was driven far away, opposed and lost. In this dire time, we gathered, led by me, and with a hymn, approached the wielder of the discus, the Lord of Shri. Bowing before him, the two who accomplish success recounted the deeds of the buffalo-born Asura: "Driven from heaven, we have been cast down to dwell on earth by the buffalo demon. If we do not descend today to the netherworld, we shall be destroyed in battle by the Danava." Hearing this, Hari, the imperishable self, was seized by anger, fierce as the fire of time itself. At that moment, from the faces of the gods, beginning with Shakra, great splendor and energy issued forth. The great sage Katyayana, peerless among seers, gathered that radiant energy together. From this, Katyayani was born—a goddess with wide, restless eyes, her body purified by yoga. Her hair was formed from Yama, her powerful arms from Hari, making eighteen arms in all. Her thighs and shanks, joined at the hips, were created from the energy of the lord of waters. Her fingers came from the Sun, her hand-fingers from the Earth. Her beautiful brows, shining like Kama’s bow, were from the Sadhyas. Thus she shone forth, renowned in the world as Katyayani. The gods bestowed their weapons and gifts upon her: Agni gave his power, Vāyu his bow, Sūrya his inexhaustible quiver and arrows. Brahmā granted a rosary and water-pot, and Kāla bestowed a fierce sword and shield. In this way, the divine energy gathered to bring forth the one destined to restore righteousness.