The lord of mountains, seated comfortably amidst the lofty peaks, gazed with serene composure upon the assembly of the seven great sages. With the radiance of virtue, he addressed them, speaking words that firmly established his own righteousness and intent. “May you accept this granddaughter,” he said, “whom I offer to you, even on behalf of our revered ancestors.” Raising his voice so that all present might hear, he declared, “O blessed sages, I give her—accept this gift!” He continued, his tone both humble and earnest, “I am without support, dwelling alone upon these mountain summits; accept my daughter, O king among mountains.” As these words were spoken, the maiden, Parvati, gently touched Shambhu, Lord Shiva, and in that sacred moment, she attained supreme joy, a bliss witnessed by the sage among the gods. The ceremony proceeded: white grains of rice and husked barley were offered, and then Brahma himself addressed the mountain’s daughter. “With a steady and equal gaze,” he instructed, “circumambulate the sacred fire, as the parched earth, scorched by the sun’s rays, receives the life-giving rain.” Out of modesty, Parvati softly replied to Brahma, “I have looked,” honoring the moment with her humility. Oblations of parched grain, together with other sacred offerings, were cast into the fire, sanctifying the union. Then Hara, Lord Shiva, spoke, “What do you desire? I shall grant it. Release her into my care.” To this, the lord of mountains replied, “You will obtain prosperity for your own lineage, and thereafter you will attain liberation.” Shiva continued, “Hear from me what prosperity for her lineage means—listen as I explain. Indeed, this prosperity has been bestowed upon her, and it belongs to our own line.” He spoke of Mālinī, who, adorned with virtuous conduct, remained steadfast in her own lineage. At that moment, Shiva beheld the face of Kālī, whose radiance surpassed even the brilliance of the moon. In that instant, his semen fell upon the sand, and he became greatly afraid. Nearby, the great sages known as the blessed Vālakhilyas, numbering eighty-four thousand, witnessed these events. After spending the night with Uma, Shiva arose at dawn. Honored by the lord of the mountain, he swiftly made his way to Mandara. Having taken leave, and accompanied by spirits, the Eight-formed One dwelt in the heart of the great mountain Mandara. Desiring a new abode, Shiva summoned Viśvakarman, the divine architect. “Build me a cave,” he commanded, “let it measure sixty-four yojanas, fashioned entirely of gold, with stairs of pure crystal and adorned with lapis lazuli.” The lord of the gods then performed a sacrifice marked by the sacred rites of householders, and thus, O sage, a great period passed for the three-eyed one. Once, in a moment of playful amusement, Bhava called Parvati “Kālī.” But the word, harsh and unkind, left its mark, for a hurtful word, once spoken, does not easily heal the wound it causes. Parvati responded with wisdom, “A wise person should not abandon those dear to them; yet today, you have acted against dharma and truth. In the same way, I will strive so that you will call me ‘Kālī’ again.” With permission granted, the three-born one—Brahma—immediately ascended to heaven. The Creator, with utmost care, fashioned the cave as if it had been chiseled by divine hands. In those auspicious days, Jayantī, unconquered on the fourth day, was also present. Thus permitted by the goddess, the virtuous ones rendered their service. In that region, a tiger, fierce and armed with fangs and claws, arrived. Watching intently, he declared, “When she is about to fall, then I will indeed seize her.” Fixing his gaze single-mindedly on her face, he waited. Meanwhile, the goddess undertook severe austerity for a hundred years, unceasingly praising Brahmā, the Lord of the three worlds, her heart filled with unwavering devotion.