In the realm of the mighty demon Śambara, splendor flourished beyond imagination. The tips of golden trees blossomed with lotus buds, while groves of karanja trees showered mandara flowers, filling the air with fragrance and color. His gardens, blooming in every season, surpassed even Nandana, the paradise of the gods. Sandalwood from Malaya grew there, carefully guarded from illusory serpents and wild beasts, preserving its purity. Within his golden inner chambers, women radiated beauty that outshone all three worlds. Even the gods, armed with discus and mace, could not rival Śambara in play or pleasure. His city gleamed with countless streams of jewels, rising like stars, and the women, adorned with many flowers, found their knees brushed by the abundance that filled the halls. At night, the sky of the netherworlds shone with hundreds of moons, echoing with melodious songs and music from celestial women. Airavata, the mighty elephant of the gods, was driven away by the lord’s illusion, while his inner chambers overflowed with the splendor and wealth of the three worlds. Endowed with all prosperity and supreme lordship, Śambara’s commands were honored by all the chiefs of the demons. The assembly of gods found rest beneath the shade of his powerful arms, and he wore earrings fashioned from the essence of gems drawn from oceanic caves. Yet, for that god who had been driven out—Indra—a vast and formidable army of demons arose, fierce in form and intent on destroying the gods. While Śambara, master of illusion, slept in another land, the gods seized their chance and entered the midst of his army. The demon Shambara appointed powerful chiefs like Dudrika and Hvadrumā to guard his forces. But the leaders of the gods, swift and bold, attacked them as hawks swoop upon flocks of bewildered finches in the sky. The foremost asuras responded by appointing new commanders, restless and loud-voiced, like waves upon the sea. Yet the gods slew them as well, provoking Śambara’s fury. Filled with wrath, he advanced toward the celestial realm, intent on its destruction. The gods, terrified by his magic, vanished from sight, like deer fleeing into the groves of Mount Meru at the approach of a tawny lion. Śambara beheld heaven empty, with the faces of gods wet with tears and hosts of lesser immortals wailing, as if the world were ending. After raging through heaven, Śambara seized what he could, burned the cities of the guardians of the worlds, and returned to his own abode. Thus, as the enmity between gods and demons intensified, the gods abandoned heaven and disappeared in all directions. Whichever commanders Śambara appointed with great effort, the gods, striving earnestly, slew them. Until finally, Śambara, seized by intense anger, flared up like fire fanned by the wind, breathing hard. He searched through the three worlds, but found no gods—only the virtuous, as one finds the wicked. By his power of illusion, he created three fierce and mighty demons, embodiments of time, who arose for the protection of strength. These terrifying beings, formed by illusion, had arms like the branches of wish-fulfilling trees and rose up like mountains agitated by wings. They were named Dama, Vyala, and Kata, each marked by their name, acting as opportunity allowed, possessing only the nature of pure consciousness. With no impressions from previous actions, they lacked latent tendencies; their activity was simply the vibration of pure consciousness, free from distinctions. Holding the subtle seed of action, born from thought yet unstrengthened and artificial, they came into being. These warriors acted by succession, like the chance meeting of a crow and a palm fruit, following the natural course of action, having abandoned latent tendencies. Just as children half-asleep move only their own limbs, so too, lacking identification with impressions and ego, they acted without attachment. They knew neither falling nor being struck down, nor flight; neither life nor death, nor battle, nor victory and defeat. Simply seeing soldiers poised before them, they attacked the enemy in battle, shattering them like mountains split by blows. Śambara, his mind greatly satisfied, thought within his city, “Indeed, my army, protected by the demon of illusion, will be victorious. These enemies are stripped of desires and aversions; in battle, they neither fear nor flee, nor remain steadfast. When these do not flee even when struck by the gods, then truly my army, endowed with extraordinary strength, now stands firm. Guarded by the mighty demon Atibalā, my troops will surely attain stability, just as the golden earth of the celestial mountain remains unmoved even when struck by the tusks of the best of heavenly elephants.” Then, with terrifying roars, the demons rose up from ocean caves, mountain ravines, and the peaks of the celestial mountain, as if playfully lifting winged mountains. Their bodies, torn by blows from celestial serpents, filled the hollow of the sky, striking down the sun with their hands. As if at the end of a cosmic dissolution, the terrified hosts of heaven-dwellers rose up from groves, caves, and the mountain of the gods. Between the leaders of gods and demons, a dreadful battle arose, as chaotic as the world’s end, in another realm. Heads fell from the sky, as if the moon and sun had been cast down by the force of dissolution, their flesh darkened by the brilliance of earrings. The warriors staggered, roaring with battle cries and the thunder of lion-shouts, like mountains laughing amid gusts of the wind of destruction.