With firm determination and constant to his vow, Shankara went home with his thoughts on Raghunatha; and as he went, a jubilant cry sounded from heaven: ‘Glory to Mahesha! Firmly have you upheld the faith!

Who other but you, O Rama’s votary, the Blessed Lord, would make a vow like this?’ Sati was troubled when she heard the heavenly voice and hesitantly asked Shiva.

‘Tell me, O Lord of grace, embodiment of truth and compassionate to the poor, what is this vow that you have made?’ But though Sati questioned him in ways more than one, Tripurari spoke not a word.

Sati guessed that the omniscient Shiva knew all she had done. ‘I have deceived Shambhu’, she realized, ‘stupid and senseless woman that I am.’

Even water mixed with milk is sold as milk, and, see, it is a just the same with love. Let a drop of acid of deceit be introduced into it and the two are separated and the taste (love) disappears.

As she reflected on what she had done, her heart was torn with inexpressible sorrow and boundless anxiety. ‘Shiva’, she thought, ‘is an ocean of grace, but an ocean no man can fathom, and that is why he has not openly mentioned my offence.’

Sati read Shiva’s thoughts in his face, and realizing that her lord had abandoned her, was bitterly distressed in her heart. When she thought of her sin, she could not utter a word, but her heart smouldered like a furnace.