Long ago, let me recount what transpired. There lived a merchant named Vishvadhara, blessed with immense wealth. In his later years, O sage, Vishvadhara was graced with a son—a boy virtuous, handsome, playful, and pleasing to behold. This son became dearer to his parents than their very lives. Yet, in due course, the beloved child passed away. The grief that seized Vishvadhara and his wife was overwhelming, for their son was gone. In their anguish, the couple resolved to die alongside him, crying out, “Alas, son! Alas, cruel fate has snatched you from us, wicked destiny has prevailed!” They lamented, “You were in the prime of youth, O ocean of virtues, taken from us though you were exceedingly rare and more precious than life itself.” Their pitiful weeping echoed far and wide. Hearing such sorrow, Yama, the Lord of Death, was moved to compassion. He swiftly departed his own city and came to the sacred bank of the Godavari River. There, he meditated upon Janardana. In a short time, something extraordinary happened—the people everywhere ceased to die. All creatures grew old, but none passed away. The earth became burdened, oppressed by the weight of so many living beings. Questions arose: “Tell me, how vast is the earth, and by whom is it filled? No creature dies, and the earth groans under the weight.” Seeking answers, the goddess Earth hastened to where Indra, the conqueror of enemy cities, dwelled among the gods. Seeing her approach, Indra bowed and asked, “What is the purpose of your coming, O Earth? Tell me why you are here.” Earth replied, “O Indra, I am oppressed by a heavy burden—not by destruction, but by the sheer weight. I have come seeking the reason for this—please explain.” Hearing her plight, Indra responded, “If there is indeed a cause, I shall know it, for I am lord of the gods and all the earth.” Earth answered, “Let Yama be instructed so that he may withdraw the creatures.” Upon hearing her words, Indra ordered the Siddhas and Kinnaras to quickly bring Yama. They journeyed swiftly to the city of Vaivasvata, but Yama was nowhere to be found. The Siddhas and Kinnaras searched everywhere, yet returned to Indra and reported, “O lord, we did not see Yama in his city, despite our efforts.” Indra then turned to Savitṛ, Yama’s father, and asked, “Where is Yama now?” Savitṛ replied, “O Śakra, Death himself is now engaged in severe austerity on the bank of the Godāvarī. I do not know the reason for this.” Hearing these words from Bhānu, Indra was filled with doubt and apprehension. He lamented, “Alas, this is terrible, truly most terrible! My lordship over the gods is lost. If Yama performs austerity on the Godāvarī, with wicked intent, he surely seeks to seize my position—such is my thought, O gods.” Determined, Indra summoned the host of apsarases. He asked, “Which among you is capable of destroying the austerity of this enemy, who is established in penance for so long? Tell me quickly.” The apsarases and sages were silent, none offering an answer. Indra, angered, addressed them, “Since none of you has spoken, we must go ourselves. Let the gods ready their armies without delay. We shall destroy this enemy, who desires heaven through austerity.” At Indra’s command, the army of the gods assembled. Knowing Indra’s heart, Hari, the sustainer of worlds, intervened. The Discus-bearer sent his discus to protect Yama, and wherever the discus rested, a supreme holy place called Cakratīrtha arose. Then Menakā spoke to Indra, voicing her doubts, “O Lord of the gods, none of us can withstand the gaze of Kāla. Death at your hands is preferable to death at Yama’s.” She pointed to a courtesan, intoxicated by beauty and youth, accustomed to solicitation, “Send her; let her go. She considers herself your property.” Hearing Menakā’s words, Indra honored the slender, beautiful courtesan and instructed her, “O courtesan, go and accomplish my task without delay. Return successful, and you shall be as dear to me as Śacī.” Obeying Indra, the courtesan soared through all directions and soon arrived before Yama, radiant in form. She stood before him, shining in all ten directions, and playfully sang the Hindola melody. Yama’s mind wavered, restless and unsteady; opening his eyes, his gaze was filled with the fire of desire. He engaged with her, though she was his enemy, for the sake of merit. Then, at once, she dissolved and became a river. Joined by her attendants and musicians at Gautamī, the courtesan, being sung to, ascended to heaven by the power of that holy place. Witnessing her ascent in a celestial chariot, Kāla, with restless eyes, was struck with wonder. As the Sun approached, Yama was addressed thus: “Perform your own duty, my son; you are to oversee the end of beings. See the wind, always blowing, creating beings for the Creator; see the people wandering the three worlds, and the earth bearing all creatures.” Hearing his father’s command, Yama replied, ready to fulfill his duty once more.