With a heart full of joy, Suravarddhaki recalled the presence of Tvaṣṭṛ. At that very moment, upon Tvaṣṭṛ’s remembrance, Śakra—the lord of the gods—arrived, surrounded by the Maruts. The gathering swelled as gods, Gandharvas, and Apsarases assembled together, filling the place with divine radiance. In the midst of this assembly, a request was made: “O Brahmin, let the cave belonging to Jābāla’s daughter be given to the one adorned with garlands.” Responding to this, the bird, revealing its true form, sought to marry the delighted maiden. The sage, now emboldened, gave his consent, saying “So be it,” to the king, who was the son of Manu. Gālava was chosen as the officiating priest, and he performed the sacred oblation according to proper rites. First, the hand of Jābāli was taken by the daughter of the Daitya. Then, the daughter of the Yakṣa took the hand of the bird. Thus, in this manner and order, the marriages of the slender-waisted women were accomplished. At this holy ford, at the Seven-Godāvarī, all were urged to bathe regularly, for its sanctity was renowned. Once all was done, the gods joyfully agreed, saying “So be it,” and departed in blissful order back to heaven. The kings, accompanied by their wives, returned to their own cities, their hearts content. Addressing the lotus-eyed one, praised as the best among women, a plea was made: “Therefore, accept me.” In turn, the doe-eyed maiden, gently praised, spoke words to the king, expressing her own thoughts. Seeking to protect herself from the king’s curse, the woman—her mind clouded by desire—brought about destruction, acting in confusion. The king left the hermitage and returned to his city. The woman, leaving the hermitage as well, stood outside, unhappy, like Rohiṇī scorched by a great eclipse, beloved of the Moon. At this time, Śukra, the sage, rose from the netherworld and returned to his hermitage in the sky, appearing like a streak of cloud tinged with twilight hues. Who, indeed, plays with anger as one would with a venomous serpent? For one who destroys a pure soul through such conduct is truly a doer of evil. She, weeping and filled with shame, spoke softly and slowly, saying, “Helpless by force, I am led away, weeping, to be spoken for.” Śukra, after purifying himself with water, became clean and addressed her with words of comfort. Yet, setting aside respect, she was made a queen fallen from righteousness. Śukra foretold: “After seven nights, there will be only ashes from a rain of stones.” He advised her, “Remain here, daughter, practicing austerity for the sake of liberation from sin, O blessed one.” Then, Śukra departed with his disciples, returning to the netherworld, the abode of the demons. After seven nights, a great shower of stones descended. The abode of the rakshasas had been fashioned by the god Shambhu. He reduced the ordinary ones to ashes, bringing about a great defeat. Even an ordinary woman can burn—how much more so the daughter of the mountain? Shambhu’s strength is immeasurable, difficult even to behold, let alone to confront in battle. The mighty Andhaka demon then spoke to Prahlada, saying, “Alone, devoid of righteousness, his body reddened with ashes.” Andhaka wondered, “How does he, with eyes like a bull’s leaf, fear the gaze of a woman’s face?” He challenged, “What you have said is not correct; it is contrary to dharma and meaning.” Thus, the events unfolded, marked by divine assemblies, sacred unions, sorrow and hope, and the ever-present search for righteousness.