Bhairava, the formidable lord, took on a fearsome form, one crafted by the power of his own devotion. This form, and the sacred recitation associated with it, is to be cherished and practiced by the best among the twice-born—those who seek righteousness, long life, health, and prosperity—at all times. With his task accomplished, Bhairava addressed his companion, urging him to explain what had transpired, for the deeds done were for the welfare of both the world and the self. The hosts of gods, eager to descend to the netherworld, had defeated their adversaries. These vanquished ones found themselves in a realm overgrown with creeping vines and filled with beings lost in intoxication. There stood a mountain, fragrant with mādhavī blossoms, beloved by sages and pleasing to Lord Hara. Maya and Tāra, leading their followers, chose this enchanting place as their abode. The southern wind blew softly, cool and scented with sweet fragrances, as the gods performed acts worthy of universal acclaim. It was then that Hari, traveling along his path, beheld a cow-mother and observed the Dānavas, who were reveling in delight and the pleasures of their victory. Without fear, the Dānavas approached, unleashing showers of arrows. Like a raincloud covering the mountains, Hari responded, his arrows falling in torrents. In the ensuing battle, Hari struck Pāka with sharp, feathered arrows, and Śakra—the lord of all immortals—rose as the chastiser of Pāka. With his well-feathered shafts, Śakra tore his foe apart and thus earned the name Purandara, the destroyer of cities. That which had been conquered was cast down to the netherworld. Turning to the sage, Tryambaka asked, “O best of sages, what else do you wish to hear from me?” Yet a doubt lingered in the sage’s heart, and he asked, “What did the destroyer of enemies do after Hiraṇyakaśipu was slain?” To this, the Lord was petitioned: “O Lord, you are my master; grant me a son who will slay Indra.” The Lord replied, “With purity and good conduct, you shall remain for a hundred years. You will bear a son, beloved, who will be the slayer of enemies—there is no other way.” After performing the rite of conception, the sage journeyed to Mount Udaya. Arriving at the hermitage, he addressed Diti. Moved by destiny, the goddess uttered the name “Bāṇa.” With a disciplined mind and unwavering purpose, the sage searched for flaws as a serpent seeks its prey. At the end of a hundred years, the ascetic, after ritually bathing Diti’s head, purified her. She slept peacefully, her feet entwined with the ends of her hair. O Nārada, at that moment, he entered his mother’s womb through her nostril. Within, he saw a great child, lying with his hands firmly placed, his face turned upward. Then, with hands shining like pure crystal, the child seized her. He pressed her with his hands, and she became hard. At that moment, O Nārada, a thunderbolt with a hundred joints, made of flesh, was produced. With this, he cut her into seven parts, and she cried out in anguish. O Nārada, he heard his son’s voice as he wailed. Then, speaking thus, he further divided each of the seven parts into seven, multiplying the divisions. With hands joined in reverence, he spoke to Diti, fearful of the curse that might follow. He said, “It was by your own request that I struck; therefore, you should not be angry with me.