Once again, Agni, the god of fire, filled the world with his boundless energy. From that divine power arose the radiant White Mountain and the sacred Saravana, both shining with a brilliance like fire and the sun. In that hallowed place, Kartikeya was born—a child of immense radiance, sprung directly from Agni’s fiery essence. At this wondrous birth, the gods and great sages gathered, their hearts overflowing with devotion, and offered their worship to Uma and Shiva. Their minds deeply gladdened, they honored the divine couple with reverence. But then, O Rama, the daughter of the mountain—Uma herself—spoke to the assembled gods. Her eyes flashed red with anger as she addressed them, her voice heavy with the weight of her pain: “Though I joined in this union for the sake of bearing a child, I was restrained. Because of this, you gods shall not have children through your own wives; from this day forward, your wives shall remain childless.” Her curse did not end there. Turning to the earth, she declared, “O earth, you shall not possess a single, unified form; instead, you will become one with many wives.” And to those whose minds were clouded, she pronounced, “You shall not know the joy that comes from a son, for you have rejected my child and have angered me.” Stricken by these curses, the gods were filled with distress. The lord of the gods, seeking relief, set out toward the region watched over by Varuṇa. There, on the northern slope of a peak born of the mighty Himavat, Shiva himself undertook deep austerities, accompanied by the goddess Uma. O Rama, all this was related to you by the daughter of the mountain herself. Now, listen as I recount to you and Lakshmana the sacred origin of Ganga. While Shiva was absorbed in his austerities, the gods—led by Indra and Agni—approached the Grandfather of all, Brahma, longing for a commander to lead their celestial army. Bowing low before the blessed Grandfather, they spoke, “O lord, the commander you once appointed is now engaged in severe penances with his wife. For the welfare of the worlds, please arrange what must be done, for you are our supreme refuge.” Hearing their plea, Brahma comforted the immortals with gentle words. “What the daughter of the mountain has spoken is fitting; her words are pure and true. But now, this divine Ganga, in whom Agni will plant his seed, shall bear the commander of the gods’ army—the destroyer of their enemies. The eldest daughter of the king of mountains will honor this son, and he will be greatly esteemed by Uma, without doubt.” Hearing these words, O descendant of Raghu, the gods rejoiced, bowing and worshipping the Grandfather. Then they traveled to the splendid, jewel-studded Kailasa and entrusted Agni with the task of obtaining a son. They said, “O Agni, for the sake of the gods, release your energy into Ganga, the mountain’s daughter.” Agni agreed and approached Ganga, saying, “O goddess, bear this embryo; it is dear to the gods.” Hearing this, Ganga assumed a divine form, and Agni’s energy dispersed in all directions, filling her streams. Anointed on all sides by fire, the waters of Ganga overflowed with this powerful force. But the goddess, overwhelmed by the blazing energy, cried out to the gods, “O lords, I cannot bear the searing fire that has arisen within me!” Burned by that fire and deeply troubled, Ganga was addressed by Agni, the receiver of all divine offerings: “Let this embryo be placed upon the slopes of the Himalayas.” Obeying Agni’s words, Ganga released the resplendent embryo from her waters. O sinless one, what emerged from her shone with the brilliance of molten gold. Gold, radiant as the sun, fell to earth, as did silver of incomparable luster, along with copper and black iron, born from the sharpness of that energy. Her impurity became tin and lead, and as these metals reached the earth, they multiplied. Where the embryo touched the earth, the entire forest encircled by mountains turned golden. From that time, O Raghava, the place became known as “jātarūpa”—gold, as radiant as fire. All the grass, trees, creepers, and shrubs there gleamed with golden light. Then the gods, with Indra and the hosts of wind deities, appointed the Krittikas—the starry nymphs—to nourish the newborn child. The Krittikas, united in purpose, made a pact to give their milk to the infant, declaring, “He is the son of all of us.” The gods proclaimed, “He shall be called Kartikeya, and will be renowned throughout the three worlds as our son—there is no doubt.” They bathed the radiant child, who had emerged from the flow of the embryo, and he shone with supreme splendor, like blazing fire. Because he had flowed forth from the embryo, the gods called him Skanda. Kartikeya, mighty-armed and brilliant as fire, then received the excellent milk of the Krittikas. With six faces, he drank from the breasts of the six mothers. In but a single day, though his body was still tender, the mighty Kartikeya, by his own strength, conquered the armies of demons, establishing himself as the victorious commander of the gods.