Parvati reproaches her own beauty, for "loveliness is fruitless if it does not bind a lover." She therefore resolves to lead a life of religious self-denial, hoping that the merit thus acquired will procure her Shiva's love. Her mother tries in vain to dissuade her; her father directs her to a fit mountain peak, and she retires to her devotions. She lays aside all ornaments, lets her hair hang unkempt, and assumes the hermit's dress of bark. While she is spending her days in self-denial, she is visited by a Brahman youth, who compliments her highly upon her rigid devotion, and declares that her conduct proves the truth of the proverb: Beauty can do no wrong. Yet he confesses himself bewildered, for she seems to have everything that heart can desire. He therefore asks her purpose in performing these austerities, and is told how her desires are fixed upon the highest of all objects, upon the god Shiva himself, and how, since Love is dead, she sees no way to win him except by ascetic religion. The youth tries to dissuade Parvati by recounting all the dreadful legends that are current about Shiva: how he wears a coiling snake on his wrist, a bloody elephant-hide upon his back, how he dwells in a graveyard, how he rides upon an undignified bull, how poor he is and of unknown birth. Parvati's anger is awakened by this recital. She frowns and her lip quivers as she defends herself and the object of her love.
Shiva, she said, is far beyond the thought
Of such as you: then speak no more to me.
Dull crawlers hate the splendid wonders wrought
By lofty souls untouched by rivalry.
They search for wealth, whom dreaded evil nears,
Or they who fain would rise a little higher;
The world's sole refuge neither hopes nor fears
Nor seeks the objects of a small desire.
Yes, he is poor, yet he is riches' source;
This graveyard-haunter rules the world alone;
Dreadful is he, yet all beneficent force:
Think you his inmost nature can be known?
All forms are his; and he may take or leave
At will, the snake, or gem with lustre white;
The bloody skin, or silk of softest weave;
Dead skulls, or moonbeams radiantly bright.
For poverty he rides upon a bull,
While Indra, king of heaven, elephant-borne,
Bows low to strew his feet with beautiful,
Unfading blossoms in his chaplet worn.
Yet in the slander spoken in pure hate
One thing you uttered worthy of his worth:
How could the author of the uncreate
Be born? How could we understand his birth?
Enough of this! Though every word that you
Have said, be faithful, yet would Shiva please
My eager heart all made of passion true
For him alone. Love sees no blemishes.
In response to this eloquence, the youth throws off his disguise, appearing as the god Shiva himself, and declares his love for her. Parvati immediately discontinues her religious asceticism; for "successful effort regenerates."