The gods, filled with eagerness, repeatedly urged, “Let us go there, O Lord of gods.” Responding to their call, they journeyed together to the sacred place where the liṅga of Bhava stood. Upon arrival, the Lord, overcome with wonder, descended into Pātāla to seek its end. Yet, O Brahman, he could not find the limit; astonished, he returned. Then Viṣṇu, the wielder of the discus, ventured forth as well, but, O great sage, he too failed to discover the end. Recognizing the greatness before them, the gods joined their hands in reverence and began to praise the divine Lord. Their voices rose in devotion: “O bearer of the clouds, O poet, O Śarva, O three-eyed one, O Śaṅkara, O destroyer of Dakṣa’s sacrifice, O embodiment of time, I bow to you. You are the infinite, the blessed Lord, the all-pervading one; I bow to you.” The Lord, manifest in his own glorious form, spoke kindly, his words flowing with wisdom: “Those who praise me, even when afflicted by desire and suffering, become truly at peace.” The gods accepted his teaching, saying, “Let us again praise the god.” Affirming their devotion, they declared, “Let this indeed be accepted; in no way should it be otherwise.” Then Brahmā himself took up the golden, tawny liṅga. In the lineage that followed, the third was Kālavadana, and the fourth was Kapālin. Kapālin’s disciple became known as Gopāyana, whose disciple was the king Ṛṣabha, called Somakeśvara. Somakeśvara’s disciple was a Vaiśya named Krātheśvara, O sage. Krātheśvara’s disciple was Karṇodara, a Śūdra by birth but a great ascetic. Having fulfilled the four stages of life, Karṇodara departed for his own abode. At a distance, an archer stood, preparing to torment him. The archer witnessed Smara descending from the tip of his topknot to his feet. Suddenly, O Brahmin, fire began to burn from the feet upward, like a forest blaze. The archer cast aside his excellent bow, which broke into five parts. From these fragments, a campaka tree arose, rich in fragrance and perfect in form. From the same source was born the kesara forest, known as bakula, O sage. There also appeared the lovely pāṭalā, adorned with bhringarāja flowers. The jāti plant emerged, shining with the rays of the moon, like five clusters. From that heap of earth, O sage, various kinds of mallī plants sprang forth. Those endowed with jāti, and those personally fashioned by the god, also appeared. Fruit-bearing trees came into being by the thousands. By the grace of Hara, foods fit for the best of gods were produced. For the sake of flowers, the imperishable one went to Mount Śiśira to perform austerities. Then, praised by the gods and worshipped by the foremost of celestials, he took up the great bow called Anaṅga. As events unfolded, a Gandharva smiled and spoke, “Sit here.” Even Vasanta, the spirit of spring, quickly fell into deep anxiety, O great sage. The blessed one spoke gently to Vasanta, “Come here, stay.” Then, from his own thigh, he created a maiden with golden limbs. Kāmadeva, the god of love, wondered, “Who is she? Is this my beloved Rati?” The maiden possessed a fine nose, a graceful line of lips, and was intent on gazing, her beauty captivating all who beheld her.