O mighty Daitya, you are offered your own son, one who is fitting for you. Yet know this: that wicked offspring will one day covet the Mother of the Three Worlds herself. When such a time comes, I shall purify his body with my own hands. Recall, your own father once took you to the netherworld. But truly, Śambhu, the Guru of all the worlds, is the true father here. One such as you should not allow your mind to dwell upon sinful intentions. The wife of Śambhu is unconquerable; you, O destroyer of gods, are not worthy of her. Without first defeating Rudra and his hosts, such a desire cannot be fulfilled. One may uproot even Mount Meru, but never can he vanquish the trident-bearing Lord. Hara is invincible—this is the truth, and I speak it plainly. Those who foolishly lust after another’s wife, along with their realm, are destroyed. Afterwards, the mighty one appointed Bhārgava as his priest. Śukra, the Bhārgava, had a daughter named Arajā. She was honored by him for a long time, and the best of Bhārgavas remained there. One day, the king arrived while Arajā, beautiful of limb, stood nearby. The venerable Śukra departed to perform a sacrifice for the son of Danu. Those present said to the king, “O king, the guru’s daughter remains unmarried.” Then the mighty-armed king entered and saw her, still unwed. It was then that Andhaka arose, impelled by the force of Death, like a staff. Though alone, Andhaka approached even the disciples of Śukra, for he was powerful. The Dānava, delighted, honored Andhaka with brotherly affection. Andhaka pleaded, “Gladden me now with the water of your embrace. My father, in his wrath, could burn even the gods. You are my sister by dharma, and I am your father’s disciple. Today, O slender-waisted one, the fire of desire consumes my body. Ask the guru himself for this; he will surely grant it to you. If the proper moment is missed, an obstacle will arise, O beautiful one. Women are not independent to give themselves away, even if able. Go, by Śukra’s command, with your attendants, kin, and relatives.” Now, consider what befell Citrāṅgadā in the auspicious age of the gods, long ago. Endowed with beauty and youth, she was like a lotus plant bereft of its pond. The lotus-eyed maiden went to a place called Nemiṣa to bathe. There, a man, handsome and lovesick, saw her slender form. The king’s son was struck by love at the sight of her. Her friends said, “Child, you are not bold, O beautiful one. Your father is righteous and skilled in all the arts.” Meanwhile, King Suratha, steadfast in truth and wisdom, said, “You, innocent one with intoxicating eyes, bewilder me with just your glance. Therefore, you ought to lie with me upon this couch, at my breast.” Then, she whose every limb was lovely and whose eyes resembled lotuses, spoke to the king...