Drawn by the virtues and beauty of Ahalyā, Indra, the king of the gods, approached her, recalling her form and feeling his heart stirred. With a smile, he gently took her hand and entered her chamber. Ahalyā, not realizing it was Indra in disguise, mistook him for her husband Gautama, who at that moment was away with his disciples. In her innocence, she welcomed him and enjoyed his company as she pleased. Whenever Indra visited her in this guise, Ahalyā greeted him sweetly, spoke loving words, and pleased him with her virtues, believing him to be her husband. Meanwhile, the real Gautama, upon returning home, was puzzled not to find his wife. The wise sage considered this a great wonder, and all those present saw the eminent sage standing at the door, though they thought he had already entered. The guardians and household servants of the sacred fire hall, frightened and amazed, spoke to Gautama: “O revered one, what is this marvel? You are seen both outside and inside. You have entered with your beloved, yet you remain outside. Truly, this is the power of your austerity! Surely you can assume many forms.” Hearing these words, Gautama was astonished. He entered the house and called out, “Who is here, O dear Ahalyā? Why do you not speak to me?” At his words, Ahalyā turned to her lover and said, “Who are you, disguised as a sage? You have committed a sin!” Frightened, she rose swiftly from the bed. Indra, terrified of the sage’s wrath, instantly transformed himself into a cat. Seeing her beloved so changed, and herself now defiled, Ahalyā was filled with fear. Gautama, angered by what he saw, exclaimed, “What is this reckless act?” Ashamed, Ahalyā did not reply to her husband. Searching for the intruder, Gautama saw the cat and asked, “Who are you?” Indra, still in disguise, replied falsely, “May I be reduced to ashes.” But then, with hands joined in reverence, Indra revealed himself: “I am Śacī’s husband, destroyer of cities, praised by men, O ascetic. This sin has befallen me; what I have said is true. I have committed a greatly condemned act, O sage.” He pleaded further, “O Brahman, those whose hearts are pierced by the arrows of love—what do they not do? Forgive me, ocean of compassion, though I am a great sinner.” Even though the virtuous are never harsh, even when wronged, Gautama, still filled with anger, addressed Indra: “Let the sin committed in devotion to Bhaga make you Sahasrabhaga—thousand-marked. And you shall become as a dry river.” Ahalyā, seeking to appease her husband, explained her situation. The sage pronounced, “Those wicked women who even desire another man in their mind go to endless hells, and so do all their ancestors.” But as Gautama listened, he became pleased and said, “Understand, O Lord, these witnesses came to me, assuming your form.” The guardians agreed, saying, “So be it,” and Ahalyā, who always spoke the truth, confirmed their words. Through meditation, the sage understood the truth and, now tranquil, spoke to his devoted wife: “O blessed one, when you unite with Gautamī, the goddess of the river, you shall become a river, and then, dear to me, you will regain your own form.” Hearing this, Ahalyā followed his words. Thus, Ahalyā, beloved of Gautama, was united with the goddess Gautamī and regained the very form that had been created for her long ago. Then Indra, king of the gods, with hands joined in humility, pleaded with Gautama: “Protect me, O best of sages, for I, most sinful, have come to your house.” Seeing Indra fallen at his feet, Gautama spoke with compassion: “Go to Gautamī, and blessings be upon you. Bathe, O Purandara. In a moment, your sins will be washed away, and you shall become thousand-eyed again.” O Nārada, thus I have witnessed both wondrous events—the restoration of Ahalyā and the redemption of Indra, the thousand-eyed lord, husband of Śacī. From that time, the sacred ford where Ahalyā was reunited became known as Indra-tīrtha, famed for granting all desires to men. Beyond that place lies another holy site, Janasthāna, spanning four yojanas. Remembrance of this place alone grants liberation to men. In the lineage of Vaivasvata was born a king named Janaka, who married Guṇārṇavā, the virtuous daughter of the lord of waters, herself an ocean of virtues. King Janaka was the origin of the Janaka lineage, upholding dharma, wealth, desire, and liberation. His wife, Guṇārṇavā, matched him in virtue. Yājñavalkya, foremost among Brahmins, was the king’s priest. One day, the best of kings questioned his priest: “Enjoyment and liberation—both are considered supreme by the wise. Enjoyment is said to be superior when one has servants, maidservants, elephants, horses, and chariots. Yet enjoyment is fleeting and ends in dissatisfaction, while liberation alone is unsurpassed. Liberation is the highest, surpassing enjoyment. How does one attain liberation through enjoyment?” Yājñavalkya replied, “By complete renunciation of all attachments, liberation is attained, though with great difficulty. Tell me, O best of Brahmins, how can liberation be attained with ease?” The priest advised, “The lord of waters is your teacher and father-in-law, and well disposed towards you. Go to him, O king; he will instruct you for your benefit.” Thus, Yājñavalkya and King Janaka went to Varuṇa and, with calm minds, asked him about the path to liberation. Varuṇa replied, “Liberation is established in two ways: through action and through non-action. The path is determined in the Veda, and action is indeed superior to non-action. All the four aims of human life—dharma, artha, kāma, and mokṣa—are bound by action. Thus, the path of liberation is said to arise even from non-action. By action, all attainments are accomplished, O best of kings; therefore, Vedic action must be performed by men with all their being. Through that, people obtain both enjoyment and liberation here; the merit of action and even non-action is found in the stages of life.” Thus, the teachings and events unfolded, full of wonder and wisdom, as witnessed by Nārada and preserved in the sacred tradition.