His mother, wife, and sister, overwhelmed by love and sorrow, remained unaware of his plight, for the heroic Krishnamsa was caught in the bewildering power of wondrous illusion. Queen Pushpavati, seeing her husband tormented by his own brother, was deeply distressed. Though Krishnamsa was blameless, he endured harsh reproach. In that moment, the wisdom arose: death and abandonment are to be regarded as equal; one must discern what is proper. Krishnamsa summoned the outcastes and ordered them to bind the slayer of his own son. “Pluck out his eyes and bring them to me together, all of you,” he commanded. Devasimha then approached and gave the outcastes a great sum of wealth. Meanwhile, Gajamukta, the devoted wife of Balakhana, remained steadfast in her loyalty to her husband. The outcastes gathered and handed the culprit to Mriganetra, rebuking him: “Shame on you, sinner, wicked one! My friend has been harmed by you.” They told him, “Your son is alive on the earth; go in search of him.” With these words, the hero departed for the auspicious city called Shirishā. Having taken leave of Gajamukta, the couple proceeded without fear. Makaranda, powerful and wise, learned the entire cause behind these events and worshipped dharma with various sacrifices and hymns. In this land, the daughter of King Abhinandana was Citraprapūjinī. Of Kesariṇī, the teacher Kutuka was renowned, having assumed the form of a yogin. The land itself was difficult to approach, made perilous by enemies and hostile stones. Jayanta was seized by Citralekhā, the king’s daughter; Indula remained there, sorrowful and bewildered by her wondrous magic. A divine message was received: “You, O god, a portion of Krishna, together with Sūryavarman, approach Citralekhā and perform dances and such with them. And having enchanted that goddess, recite her auspicious doctrine.” Having spoken thus, the god vanished, leaving the king filled with wonder. When the month of Phālguna arrived, those three assumed the forms of yogis. At that time, the god played the mṛdaṅga, and Makaranda played the vīṇā. They bewildered the city and the king, lord of elephants. The king addressed them, “Speak your desire to me, O ascetic.” Hearing this, the ascetic replied with humility, “Having accomplished the task swiftly, I will return your son to you.” Upon hearing this promise, the lord of elephants gave his own son to them. In the span of a fortnight, they joyfully reached the city of Bahlika. Those skilled in the essence of dance, intent on enchanting the king, arrived. All were captivated by their expertise in song and dance. The king, delighted, took them to his own house. Then Makaranda, powerful son of Bhishma, took up the vina and the drum. The great assembly of women rejoiced at their performance. Makaranda dispelled the illusion; it vanished, fruitless, in an instant. “Speak your desire to me, O hero,” Krishna's portion said to the bride. Hearing this, Citrarekha, her mind distressed by sorrow, spoke. She revealed, “All the deities, beginning with Indra, were created by me—by whom, whether the god Narayana, or Dharma, or Shiva himself. My name is Udaya, O queen; this is Devasingha, the excellent one. By the separation from Indula, we have attained yogic powers. Give Shuka, O great enchantress, or give Indula, if you will.