The gods stood together, overwhelmed and immobilized, as if their feet were sunk deep in mud—like a group of boys caught in bewilderment. Śaṅkara, the great Lord, addressed them: “Release your energy; I, Śaṅkara, will receive it.” Yet, their eagerness to act was misplaced, like a thirsty man who desires to drink oil instead of water. After bidding farewell to Hara, the gods regained their composure and returned to heaven. There, they approached the great goddess and spoke sorrowfully: “He has been taken away, forbidden to bring forth a son from your womb.” Upon hearing this, Śivā was filled with anger and cursed all the gods, declaring, “You shall be deprived of offspring. Therefore, your wives will not bear sons for you.” Resolute, the ascetic summoned Mālinī, intending to have her serve as a nurse. Meanwhile, Pārvatī pondered the nature of the sweat that had come from her body. When she departed, the daughter of the mountain gathered the filth and, with her divine power, fashioned it into a being with the face of an elephant. Having created this wondrous form, she placed him upon the earth and returned to her auspicious seat. Nārada, seeing Umā adorned with garlands and a gentle smile, spoke: “I am laughing because, it is said, you will have a son. Hearing this, O slender-waisted one, this laughter of mine has arisen today.” The goddess, upon hearing these words, bathed at that very place according to the prescribed rites. Soon, Śambhu arrived and also took his seat beside her. The sweat of Umā and Bhava, mingled with the element of water, became the source of new life. Knowing this was for the purpose of offspring, the Lord of the world was pleased. Rudra bathed and performed worship for the gods and ancestors, offering words and water in reverence. Śaṅkara, the trident-bearer, approached the goddess, smiling warmly. Thus addressed, the mountain’s daughter came forward and witnessed a wondrous sight. Filled with delight, she embraced her son—the elephant-faced one. Though he was truly her child, he existed without a leader, destined to cause thousands of obstacles for the gods and others. Having spoken thus, Śaṅkara gave the child to the goddess as her son. Alongside him, the fierce hosts of Mothers and those who bring obstacles were also present. The goddess, seeing her own son, felt supreme joy. She, who had once slain the mighty demons Śumbha and Niśumbha, now rejoiced in her new creation. The story of the mountain’s daughter is filled with power; it brings heaven, fame, and destroys sin. The goddess had three sons, each more powerful than even Indra, the thousand-eyed one. The third son was named Namuci, endowed with immense strength. Hari, holding the thunderbolt in his hand, sought to slay Namuci. He entered the chariot of the sun, but Achyuta was unable to destroy Namuci there. O Nārada, Namuci had received a boon of invulnerability to weapons and missiles. Abandoning the sun’s chariot, Namuci descended to the netherworld. The lord of the Dānavas saw him, seized him, and spoke: “Let this foam touch me,” said the Dānava, grasping it with both hands. Then Śakra struck with the vajra, even though Namuci was concealed within. When Namuci was thus destroyed, the sin of Brahmahatyā touched Hari. Thus unfolds the tale, full of divine wonder and power, of the goddess, her sons, and the gods.