The Seven Divine Mothers, the Saptamatrikas, stood before Kumara and insisted upon the boon they had sought. “We trouble the young girls,” they said, “and cause anguish to their mothers—such is our way.” Kumara, the commander of the celestial hosts, spoke sternly: “Your intent to harm children is unjust and unworthy.” Yet they persisted, unmoved by his reproach. Then Kumara, discerning their nature, granted a tempered boon. “If mortals worship you and implore your mercy, you shall bless them. Let your hearts be softened when your names are invoked. This is my prayer to you, O Mothers divine. You may afflict maidens until their sixteenth year, but no more. And when danger befalls you, one born of my will and strength shall arise to guard you.”
At once, from his thought emerged a mighty being, radiant in golden hue, yet weakened by hunger. Kumara infused him with his own vigor, naming him Skandapasmara, a spectral guardian of the mothers. Then were present also the primeval Mothers of creation—Vinata, mother of birds; Diti, mother of demons; Surabhi, mother of Kine; Sarama, mother of hounds; Karanja, mother of trees; Kadru, mother of serpents; and Lohitasya, the nurse of Kumara—all moving with the Matrikas, causing harm to the unborn and to female children. To appease them, men performed sacred rites, offered gifts, and prayed for the health and longevity of their offspring.
Yet some spirits, restless even after sixteen years, continued to trouble humankind. When one in sleep or drowsiness and beholds divine hosts or loses balance of mind, that is the working of spirits. If, in a dream, the thought turns toward the ancestors, it too is a mark of possession. When a man sings without rhythm or sense, or behaves in folly and mockery, it is the act of unseen beings. These influences arise from gods, ancestors, Gandharvas, Yakshas, and the subtle planners of fate, when displeased. Until seventy years of life, planetary forces weigh heavily upon mortals; thereafter, age itself brings the afflictions once cast by stars.
“O Dharmaraja,” said the sage, “know this—evil spirits trouble only the weak and ungoverned, but not the steadfast of mind. Self-control alone protects from planetary and spectral harm. And those who hold firm devotion to Shiva are beyond the gaze of devils.”
Then Markandeya spoke of Swaha Devi, who approached Kumara while he was arranging the wives of sages among the constellations. “O Kumara,” said she, “I am the daughter of Daksha Prajapati. My father gave me to Agni, yet he shows me no affection. Grant that I may never be parted from my husband, and that love may bind us inseparably.” Kumara replied, “In every rite, the oblation shall be offered with the Swaha mantra. Thus, shall you be one with Agni, for every sacrifice will reach him through your name.”
Brahma then came with the gods and sages to honour Kumara. Seeing Shiva already present, he said, “O Divine One, behold Kumara—he is none other than the son of Parameshwara, the three-eyed Lord who upholds the universe and destroyed Tripurasura. And she, Parvati, daughter of the Mountain King, is his mother. Worship them unceasingly, for they brought you forth by the power of Yoga for the welfare of all worlds.”
Kumara, rejoicing at Brahma’s words, bowed to his parents. Parvati and Parameshwara blessed him tenderly. Indra offered two celestial bells—one for Kumara and one for Visakha. Then the divine parents embraced their son and ascended a chariot drawn by a thousand lions, radiant with the fire of the cosmos, and journeyed to the holy region of Bhadravata.
Before them went Kubera upon his Pushpaka chariot, surrounded by Yaksha hosts. followed Indra on Airavata, with his legions. To the right marched Amogha, the Yaksha warrior; to the left strode Yama, Lord of Death, with Varuna beside him, his oceanic legions gleaming like waves. Shiva’s weapons themselves—his Trident and Staff of Death—took celestial form and joined the procession. The Sun and Moon held the umbrella over his head, while Vayu and Agni fanned him. The celestial maidens Vidya, Gandhari, Kesini, and Savitri attended Parvati, and Pingala, the loyal Yaksha, bore the flag before the host.
Thus, with thunderous splendour, they reached Bhadravata. There, Shiva spoke: “My son, take command of the seventh host, the Maruts. Protect the gods through your valour, for your devotion to me is their strength.” Embracing him once more, Shiva blessed him.
But soon dire omens appeared. Fire spread through the quarters, the earth quaked, the heavens roared, mountains trembled, and darkness veiled the worlds. The gods grew fearful, for the demon armies, vast and blazing with weapons, had arisen. Led by the mighty Mahisha, they came like a storm—chariots, elephants, horses, and warriors filling heaven and earth, their shouts shaking the sky.
Indra rallied the gods, crying, “Do not flee, O immortals! Stand firm and fight. Let your courage not waver before the demon host.” Encouraged, the celestials struck back. The Rudras and Vasus broke through the demon ranks; divine arrows blazed across the skies. War-elephants fell like shattered clouds, and the demons fled in confusion. But Mahisha, arrogant in his might, lifted mountains and hurled them upon the gods, scattering their hosts. Even Shiva’s chariot he seized, roaring like a hundred lions.
The worlds trembled. The sages turned pale. Shiva smiled and said to Kumara, “Behold this proud demon who dares restrain my chariot. His time has come—send him to the Lord of Death. Destroy this arrogant foe.”
Then Kumara, steadfast as a mountain, ascended his chariot blazing like the sun at the world’s end. With divine fury, he hurled his spear of Shakti; fire streamed from it, shaking earth and sky. In a flash, the weapon struck Mahisha, reducing him to ashes. The demon legions too were annihilated, devoured by the ghostly hosts of Kumara’s army. Darkness vanished, light returned, and the hearts of gods and sages were restored in faith and joy.
