On the lovely sandbanks, among tranquil ponds and blooming lotuses, Maheśvara wandered restlessly, seeking solace but finding none. No matter where he roamed, peace eluded him. In the depths of his heart, he meditated for a moment on the slender-limbed, enchanting daughter of Dakṣa. Even as he drifted into sleep, visions of her appeared before him, and he spoke out in longing: “O innocent one, separated from you, I am burned by the fire of love.” He pleaded with her image, “You ought to speak to one who bows at your feet in reverence. Though you are always embraced, why do you not speak? Especially to your husband, O girl, are you not exceedingly unkind? Without you, I could not live; what you have done is untrue. Otherwise, this pain will not be destroyed; I swear to you truly, beloved.” His sorrow overflowed; again and again, his voice rang out through the forest as he cried her name. In his anguish, he bent his bow and, with the arrow named Suffering, pierced it again, tormenting not just himself but the entire world. Roaring in his pain, he drove all beings away, wandering in every direction, agitated by the arrows of desire. Then, someone addressed him with devotion: “Brother, whatever words you speak today, do that; you are of immeasurable prowess. Command me, O Shambhu of boundless strength; I am your servant, full of devotion, O Lord. Struck by the arrows of wild passion, I find neither steadiness, nor pleasure, nor happiness. No other man is able to endure this except you; therefore, accept it.” At these words, the Trident-bearer was quickly satisfied. Pleased, he spoke: “As a boon for your worship, I will grant you something that will cause laughter in the world. Whether old man, child, youth, or woman, all will be seized by that madness. Before you, those attached to laughter and speech will become devoted; those united with yoga will also be yours. By my grace, you will become the most worshipped among men as the bestower of boons.” He then described a most holy land to the north of Kālanjara and south of the Himalaya. When this devotee departed for that sacred place, the three-eyed Lord himself went to Mount Vindhya. There, seeing him ready to strike, Hara spoke out and entered a gathering place where sages, together with their wives, were assembled. The Blessed Lord addressed them, saying: “Grant me alms.” At that time, Nārada wandered through all the hermitages, and everywhere, those of weak spirit became agitated. Their minds remained fixed on honoring their husbands and on such thoughts, but the torments of desire clouded their senses. Drawn by irresistible passion, they followed after him as female elephants follow a maddened elephant. Filled with anger, all cried out, “May his emblem fall to the ground!” Then, the three-pronged, blue-red Lord vanished from sight and swiftly entered the netherworld, piercing the cosmic egg from above. All the realms of Pātāla, both moving and unmoving beings, were filled with his presence. He journeyed on to see Mādhava at the ocean called Kṣīroda and asked, “O Lord of the worlds, for what reason are the worlds disturbed, O Mighty One?” When his emblem fell, the earth, burdened by its weight, trembled.