Moved by a fierce and devoted austerity undertaken to worship Rudra, Shambhu—satisfied by her dedication—freely bestowed a boon upon her. Because of this sacred vow, the moon, whose surface remains unbroken, continues to shine whole and radiant in the sky. In reverence, she worshipped the two feet of Vishnu, whose splendor is immeasurable. As a result, the moon began to shine by day, much like the sun, filling the world with joy. The sun, now outshone by the moon, no longer radiated as before. The lotuses, mistaking the moon’s brilliance for sunrise, blossomed open, and so it was clear to all that the moon had risen and was resplendent. The sun, witnessing these strange events, wondered, “What is this? The world indeed speaks of things auspicious and inauspicious.” For all around, the three realms had been overtaken by night-wanderers—rakshasas—who thrived in the darkness. The knower of yoga, the sun himself, reflected deeply on the growing power of these night-dwellers. He saw that those devoted to the worship of gods and brahmins, who were steadfast in righteousness, were being threatened. The sun, with his radiant nails, pondered how to destroy this menace. He understood that to stray from one’s own duty brings about the destruction of all righteousness. With his powerful rays, the sun revealed the city of the rakshasas, just as he intended. Suddenly, he was cast down from the sky, falling like a planet whose merit had been spent. As he fell, he cried out loudly, “Salutations to Bhava! To Sharva!” All who witnessed this lamented, “Alas! The devotee of Hara is falling!” Hearing these cries, the sun began to wonder, “By whom am I being cast down to earth?” When the city of the rakshasas was thus thrown down, the enraged Three-eyed One—Shiva—was revealed. The very sight of the Three-eyed God caused the sun to fall from the sky, his descent sudden and unrestrained, like a stone dropped from above. He plummeted from the heavens, surrounded by kinnaras and charanas, much like a half-ripened palm fruit encircled by monkeys. In the midst of his fall, a voice declared, “Fall in the field of Hari, if you desire the highest good.” The sun, eager to know, asked, “What is that sacred field of Hari? Tell me quickly!” It was revealed that this destiny was ordained both for Vāsudeva and Śaṅkara. “This sacred field of Hari is the city called Vārāṇasī,” came the reply. It lay between the rivers Varuṇā and Asi, and there the sun descended. Entering the waters of the Varuṇā, he submerged himself as he wished. Yet, afflicted by the fiery gaze of the Three-eyed One, the sun wandered like a blazing wheel. Nāgas, Vidyādharas, birds, and Apsarases—all these beings journeyed to Brahmā’s abode to inform him of what had transpired. For the sake of the sun, the delightful Mandara mountain, the dwelling of Maheśvara, was brought to Vārāṇasī. After propitiating the lord, the mountain was named ‘Lola’ and placed upon the sun’s chariot once more. With his kin and his city, the sun was restored to the heavens. Having bowed to Keśava, the divine lord, Vairāja returned to his own abode. Though cast down to earth by the gaze of Bhava, the sun was not destroyed. And by the grace of the self-born Brahmā, the lord of the night-wanderers, along with his city and kin, was set again in the sky.