Anger, it is said, is the first and fiercest of enemies—fruitless in its results, destructive to the very body that harbors it. Only by severing anger with the sword of knowledge does one attain supreme happiness. Likewise, craving, ever manifold and illusory, binds beings and becomes the root of sin. When craving, too, is cut away by knowledge, a person finds true contentment. Attachment, the scriptures affirm, is the greatest unrighteousness, whether among gods or mortals. For the self that seeks freedom, attachment is the most formidable adversary. Yet, when this attachment is removed by the sword of wisdom, one attains unity with Śiva himself. Doubt, meanwhile, is the greatest destroyer—it undoes righteousness and prosperity. Only by dispelling doubt does a being reach the highest goal. Hope, likened to a demoness, creeps in and consumes all happiness. But when hope is vanquished by complete selflessness, liberation is won while living in this very world. Thus, having gained this knowledge, a sage took refuge on the sacred bank of the Gaṅgā. With the sword of wisdom, he cut through delusion and attained liberation. From that time, that holy spot became renowned as Khaḍgatīrtha, and is also called Jñānatīrtha, Kavaṣa, and Pailūṣa—the fulfiller of all desires. The sages declare that there are six thousand such sacred places, each capable of removing all sin and suffering, and bestowing whatever is wished for. Among these, the sacred place called Ātreya, famed also as Anvindra, is supreme. Listen, then, to its power, for it is said to restore even lost kingdoms. On the northern bank of the Gautamī river, the venerable sage Ātreya performed great sacrifices, surrounded by priests and holy sages. In these rites, Agni himself became the Hotṛ priest, carrying the offerings, and thus the sage completed the Maheśvara sacrifice once again. Through these sacred acts, Ātreya attained lordship and the ability to travel anywhere—whether to Indra’s delightful abode, the world of the gods, or the netherworld. By the power of his auspicious austerity, he moved at will between heaven and Indra’s world. There he beheld thousand-eyed Indra, surrounded by the finest gods, praised by Siddhas and Sādhya deities, witnessing supreme dancing, hearing sweet singing, and cooled by the fanning of Apsarases. He saw Indra honored by those assembled leaders of the gods, seated upon a majestic throne, holding his son Jayanta in his lap, joined with his consort Śacī, and enjoying the highest delights. Witnessing Mahendra, the refuge of the virtuous and bestower of boons, the great-souled Brahmin lord was dazzled by Indra’s splendor and began to desire that very kingship. After being duly honored by the hosts of gods, Ātreya returned to his own hermitage, his mind filled with memories of that splendid city of Śakra, radiant with jewels and abundant in virtue. Yet, upon seeing his own dwelling—lacking in brilliance and gold—he grew disinterested, his heart longing swiftly for the sovereignty of the gods. He then spoke to his beloved son, the child of Mahātri: “I cannot delight even in the finest fruits and roots, though they are well prepared, for I remember the nectar, the sacred food, the delicacies and splendid seats of Indra’s world. I desire to be Indra, O great one; quickly grant me that station here. If you do not grant what I have declared, I will surely reduce you to ashes—of this there is no doubt.” At these words, the mighty creator Viśvakarman swiftly fashioned Mount Meru, the city of the gods, wish-fulfilling trees and creepers, and the cow of plenty. He made splendid houses adorned with vajra and other jewels, beautiful beyond compare, and fashioned a flawless Śacī and a pleasure hall like that of Kāma. In an instant, he created the assembly hall Sudharmā, charming Apsarases, the elephant Airāvata, weapons like the thunderbolt, and all the gods without exception. Though restrained by his beloved, Atri’s son created a wife equal to Śacī; then, joined by Atri’s faces, he fashioned the thunderbolt and other weapons. He recreated all the dancing and singing he had seen in Indra’s city. Having obtained all these, the sage was filled with delight. Indeed, in such supremely pleasant surroundings, who could feel any longing—not even for the most desirable things? But when the Daityas and Dānavas heard of this, they gathered together, and the Rākṣasas, filled with anger, declared: “Having abandoned heaven, why has Hari come to earth? Is it for mutual pleasure? Let us go and fight the slayer of Vṛtra, whose sacrifice was brief.” Thus, the Asuras surrounded Atri’s son and encircled the city he had made, naming it Indra’s city. Among them was the one born first, resolute in mind, the god who surpassed gods by sacrifice, by whose power heaven and earth are sustained, and who is thus called Indra among men. But the sage declared: “I am not Hari, nor is Śacī my wife, nor is this city or forest that of Indra. He alone is Indra—the slayer of Vṛtra, wielder of the thunderbolt, thousand-eyed, breaker of enemies, with arms like thunderbolts. I am a Brahmin, a knower of the Vedas, surrounded by Brahmins, dwelling on the bank of the Gautamī. Whether in the future or today, for happiness, I performed this act due to the force of misfortune.” “O best of sages,” the Daityas said, “the sweat of Indra which you have removed, O Ātreya, was only a mere imitation; your welfare is assured, there can be no doubt.” Then Ātreya said, “As you all declare of me here, so indeed shall I act, O greatly fortunate ones; by truth I invoke the sacred fire.” Thus he addressed the Daityas and then spoke to Tvaṣṭṛ: “Whatever you have done here, O Tvaṣṭṛ, out of affection for me—this position of Indra—withdraw it again quickly; protect me, a Brahmin sage. Restore to me my hermitage, with its deer and birds, and trees and water as before; I have no use for divine things. All that has come to me out of order is not conducive to the happiness of the wise.” Tvaṣṭṛ replied, “So be it,” and withdrew the boon. The Daityas returned to their own places, making the land peaceful, and Tvaṣṭṛ too departed, as if smiling. Ātreya, surrounded by his disciples and his wife, remained on the bank of the Gautamī. Residing there, devoted to austerity and surrounded by all, while a great sacrifice was underway, the sage, feeling ashamed, confessed: “Alas, such is the power of delusion—even my mind was led astray! What use had I in attaining the position of Mahendra? What did I do here before?” Thus, the story reveals the power of knowledge, the dangers of craving and attachment, and the supreme value of self-realization over even the highest celestial pleasures.