When the slender and beautiful courtesan finished speaking, Śakra, the lord of the gods, honored her with respect and gave her his instructions. “O lovely one,” he said, “go at once and fulfill my task without delay. Return successful, and you shall be as dear to me as Śacī herself.” Obedient to Śakra’s command, the courtesan set out at once. Swift as thought, she soared through the directions and in a single moment arrived before Yama, radiant in her splendor. There, amidst the brilliance shining in all ten directions, the graceful maiden began to sing the Hindola melody, her voice playful and enchanting. The song unsettled Kāla’s mind; Yama, opening his eyes, was filled with a restless, fiery desire. Though she was his adversary, Yama engaged with her for the sake of merit. Then, in an instant, the courtesan dissolved from his presence and became a river. Joined by her attendants and musicians at the holy place of Gautamī, she was sung to in celebration. By the power of that sacred site, the courtesan ascended to heaven in a celestial chariot. Kāla, his eyes still restless, watched in wonder as she rose to the heavens. As the Sun approached, he addressed Yama with these words: “My son, perform your own duty. You are to oversee the end of beings. Look at the wind, always moving, creating beings for the Creator. See the people wandering the three worlds, and the earth bearing all creatures.” Hearing this, Yama replied to his father, “This is not a blameworthy act; I shall surely do it. Yet you should not command me to perform such a cruel deed.” The Sun answered, “What act could ever be blameworthy for you, O Yama? Did you not witness the courtesan, surrounded by her attendants, 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 bathed there and departed for heaven. Yama, too, after bathing at the confluence, returned to his own city. Even the slayer of beings then set aside all doubt, and, seeing Yama depart, set his own wheel in motion to travel. Where the blessed Govinda, adorned with a garland of forest flowers, resides—whoever hears or recites this sacred story with concentration, all their calamities are destroyed, and they attain long life. Now, O best of sages, listen to the account of the holy place of Ahalyā’s union, which purifies the three worlds, and what transpired there. Out of great curiosity, O lord of sages, I once created many maidens, each endowed with various forms and virtues. Among them, I fashioned one most excellent, marked by auspicious signs—a maiden of beautiful limbs, full of grace and virtue. Seeing her, I wondered: who could possibly be worthy to support her? Not the demons, nor the gods, nor even the sages. It occurred to me that only a Brahmin, foremost in virtue, rich in austerity and wisdom, could be her support. Therefore, I gave her to Gautama, the great sage, who possessed all auspicious marks and was a knower of the Veda and its branches. I instructed Gautama, “Protect her, O best of sages, until she attains youth. When she reaches young womanhood, bring this virtuous one back to me.” Gautama, purified by austerity, accepted the slender-waisted maiden and departed. After raising and adorning her with care and steadfastness, Gautama brought Ahalyā back to me without hesitation. Upon seeing her, all the gods—Indra, Agni, Varuṇa, and the rest—approached me, each asking separately, “Give her to me, O lord of gods.” Sages, Sādhyas, Dānavas, Yakṣas, and Rākṣasas all gathered, drawn by the maiden’s beauty. Yet, among them all, Indra’s desire was the greatest. Still, Gautama’s greatness, depth, and steadfastness shone forth. Remembering this, I was amazed and thought, “This auspicious-faced one should be given only to Gautama; she is not suitable for another.” Thus, I resolved to give her to him. Yet I observed how the resolve and patience of all the assembled gods and sages had been shaken by this young girl. She was called Ahalyā by the gods, by me, and by the sages at that time. In the presence of all, I proclaimed, “She will be given to that one who first circumambulates the earth—not to another, no matter how many times he tries.” Upon hearing my words, all the hosts of gods set out to circumambulate the earth for Ahalyā’s sake. When the assembly of gods had departed, Gautama, the lord of sages, also sought to win Ahalyā. At that moment, Surabhi, the wish-fulfilling cow, was half-delivered; Gautama saw her and, recalling that the earth is embodied in her, circumambulated her. Then he circumambulated the emblem of the lord of gods. Having thus circumambulated both, the best of sages, Gautama, performed a single circumambulation on behalf of all the gods. No one else was able to complete the circuit of the earth. Thus, having accomplished the task, the sage Gautama approached me, confident and serene.