O gentle one, you have embraced a life of austerity, yet I sense a lingering doubt within your heart. Pleasures, though delightful in their season, inevitably fade away, even while the vigor of youth endures. You possess beauty, noble birth, and wealth in abundance—these blessings are yours. Yet, having set aside your fine silk garments, why do you now clothe yourself in simple bark-cloth? To the wandering mendicant, O Narada, she spoke the truth of her heart: "Listen, this Kāli desires Hara—Shiva himself—as her husband." At her words, the mendicant laughed with great joy and replied, "How will your hand, so soft and delicate like a tender shoot, ever unite with Shiva's hand, which bears a serpent? You are anointed with fragrant sandalwood, while he is adorned with sacred ashes—this union, to my mind, seems ill-matched." But she answered firmly, "Do not speak so, O mendicant. Hara surpasses all in virtues. Whether adorned or unadorned, the Lord of gods is ever the same." She added, "One who merely hears, O moon-bright one, is not as sinful as one who slanders." Then, before her eyes, the mendicant shed his disguise, revealing himself as Shiva in his true, resplendent form. "For your sake," he said, "I will send the great sages to the house of Himavat. In the world, he will be known as Bhadreśvara, and those who seek auspiciousness will always worship him." With these words, Shiva ascended into the sky and returned to his father's abode. Meanwhile, Pṛthu went to the water and performed his ritual bath. Filled with joy, and accompanied by his attendants and vehicle, he journeyed to the great mountain Mandara. There, with all the lords of the gaṇas, he worshipped the mighty, three-eyed mountain-lord, offering divine fruits, pure water, roots, and tubers. At this time, the great sage, remembering his purpose, set out with Arundhatī. Together, they arrived at the splendid Mandara mountain, with its beautiful caves. Rising to greet them and showing honor, Pṛthu spoke: "By the dust of your lotus feet, I have been purified of all sin—even here, where the rocks themselves are lotus-colored, smooth, and soft." With Arundhatī, the sage entered the mountain's slope. Having worshipped with arghya and other offerings, he stood focused and serene. Wishing to increase his own fame, he honored the seven sages, those humble and noble ones. "Bharadvāja, listen; and you, Aṅgiras, listen as well," he said. He recalled, "Long ago, Sati gave up her life through the vision of yoga. O best of the twice-born, for my sake, let the lord of mountains be approached." With the utterance, "Om, obeisance to Śaṅkara," they set out for Himālaya. Truly, noble women know the path of righteousness among women. After offering salutations to Rudra, Arundhatī departed with her husband. They beheld the city of the king of mountains, shining like the city of the gods. The tranquil mountains—Sunabha and others—honored them as they entered the radiant mansion of Himavat, gleaming with golden brilliance. Upon reaching the grand gate, they paused, for the doorkeeper stood there, holding a great staff fashioned from the precious padmarāga gem. "Announce to him that we have arrived," they said, "for we seek an important audience.