Troubled and weighed down by a great burden, the Earth herself came before mighty Indra, the king of the gods. With a voice heavy with distress, she said, “O Indra, it is not destruction that oppresses me, but a crushing weight. I have come to you seeking the cause—please, tell me what this is.” Hearing the earnest plea of Earth, Indra replied with assurance, “If there is truly a cause behind your suffering, I shall know it, for I am the lord of the gods and all the earth.” Encouraged by his words, Earth spoke again to Indra, the lord of Shachi, saying, “Let Yama be instructed, so that he may withdraw the living beings.” Upon hearing this, O great sage, Indra promptly ordered the Siddhas and Kinnaras to go at once and bring Yama before him. The celestial beings journeyed swiftly to the city of Vaivasvata, Yama’s abode, but though they searched everywhere with great diligence, Yama was nowhere to be found. Disappointed, they quickly returned and reported to Indra, “O lord, we did not see Yama in his city, though we searched everywhere with great effort.” Indra, now concerned, turned to Savitṛ, the radiant Sun and father of Yama, and asked, “Where is Yama now?” Savitṛ replied, “O Śakra, Death himself is now on the banks of the Godāvarī, engaged in severe austerities. I do not know the reason for this.” Hearing these words from Bhānu, the Sun, Indra’s heart filled with doubt and anxiety. He lamented, “Alas, this is terrible, truly most terrible! My lordship over the gods is lost. If Yama is performing austerities on the Godāvarī, surely he seeks to seize my position with wicked intent—such is my fear, O gods.” With this grave concern, Indra summoned the host of apsarases, the celestial nymphs. He asked them, “Which among you is capable of destroying the austerity of this enemy, who has long been established in penance? Tell me quickly.” But none of the great sages or apsarases spoke. Indra, angered by their silence, addressed the assembly, “Since none of you will answer, then we must go ourselves. Let the gods and their armies be ready without delay. We shall destroy this enemy who desires heaven through his austerity.” As Indra spoke, the army of the gods assembled. But Hari, the sustainer of the worlds and Discus-bearer, knowing Indra’s intention, sent his divine discus to protect Yama. Wherever the discus came to rest, there arose a supreme holy place called Cakratīrtha. At this moment, Menakā, foremost among the apsarases, spoke to Indra, voicing her doubts: “O Lord of the gods, none of us can withstand the gaze of Kāla, Death. It would be better to die at your hands than to face Yama’s wrath. Yet, this courtesan, intoxicated by her beauty and youth, is accustomed to solicitation. Send her; she considers herself your own.” Taking her counsel, 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 herself.” Obeying Śakra’s command, the courtesan swiftly soared through the directions and, in but a moment, arrived before radiant Yama. She appeared before him, shining in all ten directions, and began to sing the Hindola melody with playful grace. Hearing her song, the mind of Kāla, Death himself, wavered; his heart grew restless and unsteady. Opening his eyes, Yama gazed upon her, his glance burning with the fire of desire. He engaged with her, O great sage, even though she was his enemy, for the sake of merit. Then, in an instant, the courtesan dissolved and became a river. With her attendants and musicians, the courtesan, now transformed, arrived at Gautamī. There, as she was sung to, she ascended to heaven by the power of that sacred place. Seeing the courtesan ascending to heaven in a celestial chariot, Kāla—Yama—his eyes restless, was filled with wonder. Then, as the Sun approached, Yama was addressed thus: “Perform your 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, “This is not a blameworthy act; I shall surely do it. But you should not command me to perform such a cruel deed.” The Sun answered, “What act could be blameworthy for you, O Yama? Did you not see the courtesan, accompanied by her attendants, being sung to, ascending to heaven after bathing in the Gautamī? You have performed severe austerity here, my son, which is most difficult, yet I do not see its end. Therefore, return to your own city.” Having spoken thus, the blessed Sun, after bathing at that holy place, returned to heaven; Yama, too, after bathing at the confluence, returned to his own city. Even the slayer of beings, Death himself, then abandoned all doubt, O great sage. Seeing Yama depart, he set his wheel in motion and traveled on. Where the blessed Govinda, adorned with a garland of forest flowers, resides—whoever hears or recites this narrative with concentration, his calamities are destroyed and he attains long life. Now, O best of sages, listen to the account of the sacred place of Ahalyā’s union, which purifies the three worlds, and of the marvels that occurred there.