Among all the beings I created, there was one maiden whom I fashioned to be most excellent, adorned with auspicious marks and blessed with beauty and virtue. When I beheld her—her limbs graceful, her form and character shining—a thought arose in my mind: “Who is worthy to support and protect such a one?” I considered all the worlds, but neither the gods, nor the demons, nor even the sages seemed capable of bearing such responsibility. Reflecting further, I realized that only a Brahmin, foremost in virtue, endowed with great austerity and wisdom, could truly be her guardian. Among Brahmins, the sage Gautama stood out—distinguished by all auspicious marks, deeply learned in the Veda and its branches. To him, I entrusted the maiden, asking him to care for her until she reached young womanhood, and then to bring her back to me. Having thus spoken, I gave the slender-waisted maiden to Gautama. The sage, purified by his austerities, accepted her and departed. He raised her with great care, adorned her, and when she came of age, he brought her back to me, unwavering in his duty. When Ahalya stood before me in her full radiance, all the gods—Indra, Agni, Varuna, and the rest—approached, each one beseeching me, “Give her to me, O lord of gods.” Sages, Sādhyas, Dānavas, Yakṣas, and Rākṣasas also gathered, drawn by her beauty, each desiring to win her. Indra, in particular, was seized by a powerful longing. Yet, the greatness and steadfastness of Gautama shone forth amidst them all. Amazed by the effect Ahalya had on even the highest beings, I thought to myself: “She is fit to be given only to Gautama; she is not suitable for another.” Yet I also saw that the resolve and patience of all present had been shaken by her presence. At that time, the gods, the sages, and I myself called her Ahalya. Addressing the assembly, I proclaimed, “She will be given to that one, O bright-browed ones, who first circumambulates the earth. None else, no matter how many times they try, shall win her.” Hearing my words, all the hosts of gods set out at once to circle the earth, each hoping to win Ahalya. When the gods had departed, Gautama, too, made his effort. At that moment, Surabhi, the wish-fulfilling cow, was half-born from the earth, and Gautama saw her. Remembering that the earth herself was present in this form, he circumambulated Surabhi, and then the emblem of the lord of gods. Having thus circled both, Gautama, the best of sages, completed a single circumambulation for all the gods. No one else managed to complete the circuit of the earth as swiftly or insightfully. Gautama then approached me, bowed deeply, and said, “O lotus-seated, soul of the universe, again and again I bow to you. I have circumambulated the entire earth; whatever is proper now, O lord of gods, you know best.” Through the yoga of meditation, I understood the truth and replied, “This beautiful-browed maiden is yours, Gautama; your circumambulation is accomplished.” I explained, “Dharma is subtle and hard to grasp, even through the Vedas. Surabhi, half-born, is the earth with her seven continents; by circumambulating her, you have fulfilled the condition. Likewise, circumambulating the liṅga yields the same fruit. I am pleased with your patience, knowledge, and austerity.” Thus, I gave Ahalya, the best among maidens, to Gautama, the tiger among seers. When their wedding took place, the gods arrived in due time and witnessed the event. They saw Gautama and Ahalya, their union a source of great joy, and were filled with wonder. When the ceremony was complete, the gods returned to heaven, and Indra, lord of Śacī, having seen Ahalya, also departed. Pleased at heart, I bestowed upon Gautama the sacred Brahmagiri, a place that fulfills all desires and is most auspicious. There, Gautama lived happily with Ahalya. In heaven, Indra heard of Gautama’s happiness and the holy tale of his marriage. Driven by curiosity and desire, Indra came to Gautama’s hermitage, disguised as a Brahmin. He saw the sage’s dwelling, his wife, and his prosperity, and a dark intention took root in his heart as he gazed upon Ahalya. Overcome by desire, Indra lost sight of everything—neither himself nor others, neither time nor place, nor even fear of the sage’s curse could restrain him. Absorbed in meditation, proud of his sovereignty among the gods, Indra’s body burned with longing as he wondered, “How can I enter? How can it be done?” Yet, even as he dwelled in the form of a Brahmin, he found no opportunity. One day, after performing his morning rites, Gautama left the hermitage with his disciples to see the grounds, Gautamī, the Brahmins, and the various grains. Noticing this, Indra, the best of sages, saw that his moment had come. Assuming Gautama’s form, and intent on fulfilling his desire, Indra approached the beautiful-limbed Ahalya and spoke to her.