Despite many efforts, the goods that had been mixed with those of the thieves could not be recovered. Overwhelmed by fear and despair, the merchant thought to himself, “The king will have me and my companions executed—what can I do now? Where can I find happiness in such a plight?” Yet, recalling the sacredness of the Narmada river, he reflected, “To die on the banks of the Narmada is to attain the world of Shiva.” Meanwhile, a foreign merchant happened to see the merchant’s abundant wealth. Suspicion arose among the people, and thinking, “He must be a thief,” they bound him, hoping to protect themselves from blame. Even the king did not consider whether this man was truly opposed to Hari, the Lord. The virtuous merchant, together with his brother-in-law, was thrown into prison, iron chains shackling their limbs and feet. There, the two lamented greatly and repeatedly, mourning their fate. The merchant grieved, “Where are my wife and daughter now? How swiftly fortune has reversed!” He remembered his past actions, feeling, “Surely, I have done much to displease fate.” For twelve long days, father-in-law and brother-in-law remained in distress, their hearts heavy with sorrow. Yet, it is said: those wise ones who always listen to the stories of the Lord dwell in the abode of Hari, while those who are opposed to Him wander through many hells. Dharma, sacrifice, the king, and even the thief—all are dear to Lakshmi, the goddess of fortune. In sacrifice, offerings are made to mothers and gods with the sacred words ‘svadha’ and ‘svaha.’ But of the two—king and thief—it is the thief who is the killer, though all serve dharma in their own way. Meanwhile, the wealth of the virtuous merchant, now devoid of its truthful owner, remained in his house. His family was forced to sell garments, ornaments, and whatever they could, simply to survive. Eventually, there came a day when the merchant’s daughter was left without food or clothing. Seeing her father pray to the Lord of the universe, she too turned to Hari in devotion, exclaiming, “Come, Lord, I will worship You!” Even when her mother scolded her, the daughter wondered, “O auspicious one, where shall I stay in these troubled times?” In this age of Kali, actions yield immediate results. The daughter prayed with all her heart, “Let my father and master return to this land, as I desire.” Seeking sustenance, the woman arrived at the house of Śīlapāla, the protector and guardian. Hearing her plight, Śīlapāla generously gave five niṣkas of wealth. Thus freed from debt, the family was able to perform the ancestral rites at Gayā. Līlāvatī, together with the daughter, worshipped with devotion. That very night, in the city on the banks of the Narmadā, as the king slept in his palace, a brāhmaṇa appeared to him in a dream and gently awakened him with these words: “Rise, rise, O king! Release those two virtuous ones.” Astonished, the king awoke and contemplated the eternal Brahman. The chief minister, perceiving the king’s wonder, said, “O brāhmaṇa, bring those two here and question them properly, O king.” The virtuous merchant was brought before the king, who questioned him, seeking the truth. The merchant replied, “For the sake of trade, O great king, we both live by commerce. We came to your city to sell or buy gems and pearls. Who among men does not experience misfortune when fate turns against him? We are not thieves, O king; judge the truth for yourself.” Hearing these words and understanding their sincerity, the king ordered the strong bonds to be cut and freed Lomaśa, the merchant. In the city, he was honored with garments, ornaments, and vehicles, his virtue at last recognized and restored.