Guarded by auspicious planets and great comets that shimmered across the heavens, the world was shaken by tumultuous battles. These fierce conflicts stirred up crowds of omens and portents, their presence looming like raised necks, signaling the gravity of the struggle. The earth itself, with its mountains, oceans, and the very sky, seemed to drown beneath streams of blood, so that all creation appeared as a blossoming forest of scarlet kimshuka trees—an image born from the relentless enmity raging among the combatants. The ocean became a dreadful expanse, filled with corpses piled as high as mountains. Enormous bodies swayed, caught and hanging from the branches and trunks of every tree. Winds carried away the tall palm trees, their wings, flowers, and fruits still attached, and even forests of arrows, filling the sky with their flight. Amidst this chaos, arms as numerous as the mountain-like heaps of corpses seemed to dance, and celestial nymphs and stars, cast from their aerial chariots, fell into the waters below. Mountains themselves were pierced through by arrows, spears, maces, javelins, and swords, and the sky was strewn with fragments of walls that had fallen from the seven worlds. The unceasing, thunderous sound of great war drums—intoxicated and roaring like dense storm clouds—echoed so powerfully that it seemed to shake even the mighty elephants of the netherworld. Mountains were torn from their roots by the hands of powerful demons like Vināyaka and hurled across the battlefield, while on one side, hosts of perfected beings and wind-gods stood motionless, witnessing the destruction. Gandharvas, kinnaras, gods, and celestial sages fled in all directions, their leaders wounded and exhausted, falling lifeless to the ground. The hosts of demons and daityas, though they gained only a fleeting victory, were nearly destroyed themselves. The army of gods was being torn apart, and Indra stood alone, deeply anxious. In the northern direction, a blazing fire—its flames tinged red by weapons—shone fiercely, dispelling the darkness with its ever-bright light. Terrifying winds, roaring like great serpents, swept through the quarters, scattering fragments of shattered rocks and the bodies struck by thunderbolts, as if portending cosmic dissolution for the gods. Blood flowed in torrents, like the Ganges in flood pouring from the sky. The hosts of gods, bound together by cords, roared with the tumult of released thunder. The great serpent, seizing and crushing all the abodes of the gods with its own hand, concealed the lotus at its waist amidst the harsh tumult of battle. Airavata, Indra’s mighty elephant, his pride subdued and intent on fleeing, was surrounded and overwhelmed by the demon army, like the midday sun hidden by a mass of clouds. The armies of the gods, with their weapons and limbs fallen, blood streaming forth, scattered in flight like waters bursting through a breached dam. Yet, the cords, serpents, and belts—long hidden—followed the fleeing gods with resounding noise, like flames pursuing their fuel. The demons searched everywhere but could not find the gods, just as lions cannot find deer that have vanished into a thicket of dense clouds. When the gods remained hidden and could not be found, those cords, serpents, and belts joyfully returned to their lord, who dwelt in the treasury of the netherworld. Meanwhile, the gods, dejected and battered, regained their composure and sought out Brahma, the one of immeasurable brilliance, to find a means to victory. Brahma appeared to them, his face radiant with a red glow, like the moon rising in the evening over oceans tinged crimson. The gods bowed to him and clearly recounted the words of Shambara, describing in detail the sequence of the Dama, Vyala, and Kata armies. Hearing their account and reflecting deeply, Brahma, wise in discernment, spoke reassuring words to the assembly of gods: “Indeed, at the end of a thousand years, Shambara will be slain by Hari; until then, O lord of immortals, you must wait for that time. For now, you must fight with the Dama, Vyala, and Kata forces, and then withdraw from battle with the demons who wield illusion. “These warriors, through constant practice of battle, have developed pride that arises from their own sense of ego, like a reflection in a mirror. But when these Dama, Vyala, and Kata warriors have acquired tendencies, they will be easily conquered by you, like birds caught in a net. Today, since they are without such tendencies and untouched by pleasure or pain, by striking down your enemies with courage, you gods have attained invincibility. “Those who are bound by the threads of latent tendencies and subdued by desire become controlled in this world, like birds tied with a rope. But those wise ones who are free from such tendencies and whose minds are unattached neither rejoice nor become angry—such great intellects are difficult to overcome. “One whose inner self is knotted by the cord of latent tendencies, even if great and learned, can be defeated even by a child. He who constantly thinks, ‘I am this, this is mine, that is that,’ becomes a vessel for calamities, as the ocean is for waters. He who limits himself to this alone and regards himself as insignificant, even if he knows everything, everywhere falls into the highest state of wretchedness. “By whomsoever limitation is imagined for the infinite, immeasurable essence of the Self, by that very person the Self is subdued by his own self-nature. Whatever exists in the three worlds apart from the Self, when regarded as something to be acquired, becomes the cause of bondage through such conception. “They know that mere attachment is the cause of countless sorrows, and that detachment everywhere is the cause of happiness. As long as there is disregard for the state of inner being, the bonds of desire cannot be overcome, just as the wind cannot conquer mosquitoes. A creature subdued by inner tendencies and led by weakness is conquered; otherwise, even a mosquito would be like the immovable mountain of the gods. “Wherever there is a tendency, there arises weakness; qualities and faults are seen in the existent, never in the non-existent. Within, one holds to one’s own tendencies, thinking, ‘I am this, this is mine.’ Just as the bonds shape the mind, O Indra, so act accordingly.” Thus, Brahma counseled the gods, guiding them to wisdom amidst the turmoil of cosmic battle.