He intensified it by
standing on one leg and doing, target missed; resorted to sitting surrounded by
panchagnis; efforts eluded the object; began throwing into the fire his heads
severing one after another, no effect; drew out his entrails and played rudra
veena making them as strings and singing at the highest pitch that reverberated
the whole Himalayas. It was certainly heart-rending and tear-raining. His
anguish reached the climax, and helplessness, the nadir. His arrogance and 'I'
ness melted and flowed down in torrents. Perhaps touched at the pathetic wails
and the nullified 'self', the Lord waiting for this moment appeared before him
and said, "My dear son you have won the trophy, my test is over, and your
ordeal deserves the highest prize, spell out, and take whatever you want".
The last word rejuvenated him and prostrating to him he said, "My Lord, I
need nothing except the Atmalinga and it will be installed in my capital and
the whole danava race adore it with utmost devotion due, according to agamic