As soon as the Three-eyed Lord, Śiva, set his gaze upon him, the radiant being fell from the sky. Released from all restraint, he plummeted like a stone cast down, tumbling through the atmosphere. As he descended, he was surrounded by celestial beings—kinnaras and charanas—who witnessed his fall. He dropped like a half-ripened palm fruit, with monkeys gathering about, marveling at the sight. In that moment, a voice proclaimed, "If you desire the highest good, fall in the field of Hari!" Eager to know, he asked, "Tell me quickly—what is that sacred field of Hari?" It was revealed that this destiny belonged equally to Vāsudeva and Śaṅkara. "The sacred field of Hari is the city called Vārāṇasī," came the answer. Thus, he fell between the Varuṇā and Asi rivers, descending upon that holy ground. Entering the waters of the Varuṇā, he submerged himself there, just as he wished. Yet, afflicted by the fiery force of the Three-eyed One’s gaze, he wandered like a blazing wheel, burning with divine energy. Witnessing these events, nāgas, vidyādharas, birds, and apsarases—all manner of celestial beings—journeyed to the abode of Brahmā to inform him of what had transpired. The delightful Mandara mountain, the dwelling of Maheśvara, was brought forth because of the sun’s plight. Having propitiated the Lord for the sake of the sun, Mandara was brought to Vārāṇasī. There, it was named 'Lola,' and once more it was placed upon the celestial chariot. 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 home. Though cast down to earth by Bhava’s gaze, the sun was not destroyed. And by the self-born Brahmā, the lord of night-wanderers was set in the sky once again, together with his city and his kin. O sage, you ask how the worship of the two great gods, Hari and Īśa, is to be performed. For the worship of Śarva and the wise Keśava, listen: The Lord of the gods, husband of Śrī, lies down to sleep upon the coils of the serpent. One by one, the mothers of the gods also enter their slumber. With all things in proper order, one should first offer honor to Janārdana. On the eleventh day, the Lord of the universe is ceremonially laid to rest. Having donned the sacred thread and worshipped the twice-born priests, the devotee, clad in yellow garments and having received their blessings, leads the Lord to sleep. A bed is prepared, adorned with the fragrant blossoms of the kadamba tree. Upon it are placed a golden lotus, a soft, well-spread cushion, a tiger skin, and a bundle of matted locks tied together as bedding. Then, for the gods, the night begins; it marks the southern course of the sun. Upon this couch, the Lord sleeps, revealing to the worlds the supreme path. On the fifth day, Vināyaka is honored; on that same day, so is Dharmarāja. On the eighth, Kātyāyanī is worshipped; on the ninth, the Lady of the Lotus abode. On the eleventh day of the dark fortnight, O Brahman, even the Sādhyās fall into slumber. As the gods sleep in this way, the season of rains arrives. The crows, heavy with their young in that season, also sleep. That second day is auspicious and holy, known as the awakening from an unempty bed. Then, the Lord, seated on the couch together with Lakṣmī, is worshipped with fragrance and flowers, O sage, as the cycle of divine rest and awakening continues.