In a sacred land, a devoted soul exerted himself greatly to worship the divine: Śiva, Janārdana, Brahmā, the Sun, Gaṅgā, and other deities were honored with reverence. The scriptures ponder: when misfortune befalls a person, and he neglects to serve holy places or the gods, what state will such a creature, bound by time, attain? Yet, one who takes refuge in the single Lord, eager to serve the Gautamī river, who possesses supreme faith and has renounced worldly attachments, finds a different path. This devotee performed countless sacrifices with learned priests, giving lavish gifts to all. His dedication made him a veritable island of Vedic rites, and thus the place became known as Yajñadvīpa. On the night of the full moon, the celestial maiden Urvaśī descends to this island. Whoever circumambulates the island in reverence at that auspicious time is said, by that very act, to have circled the earth, its oceans, and the sky itself. There, the remembrance of the Vedas and sacrificial rites flourishes. Those who perform meritorious deeds at this place receive the fruits of all Vedic sacrifices. This sacred spot is known as Ailatīrtha, and also as Purūrava. It is likewise called Vāsiṣṭha and is famed as the division of the channel. In the era of King Aila, no division of the channel occurred during any rites, but at Urvaśī’s place, the channel was divided—first by Vasiṣṭha, then by Gaṅgā herself. This division of the channel became a source of success for both visible and invisible desires. There, it is said, are seven hundred excellent holy places. Bathing and giving gifts at this site bestow the rewards of all sacrifices. After bathing at the channel’s division, whoever beholds the deities there will suffer no decline in fortune, either here or hereafter. Such a one, having attained all exaltation, rejoices in heaven like Indra. Now, O Nārada, listen as I speak of the greatness of Nandītaṭa, a holy place renowned among those learned in the Vedas. The mighty son of Atri, known as Candramas—the Moon—diligently studied all the Vedas and mastered the science of archery as prescribed. Having gained all knowledge from Jīva, Candramas resolved to honor his teacher. Bṛhaspati, his preceptor, pleased by his devotion, spoke to Candra, saying, “Know that my beloved is Tārā, radiant as Rati.” Candramas entered Bṛhaspati’s house to speak with Tārā. Upon seeing her, whose face shone like a star, he took her by the hand. Driven by desire, he forcibly drew her to his own home. Though Candramas was wise, patient, intelligent, and self-controlled, the scripture observes that unless a man is especially ensnared by the net of a woman’s desirous glances, he does not seek out a woman with long, inviting eyes in a private place. Yet, upon seeing such a woman, whose mind does not succumb to desire? For this reason, a virtuous woman should never look upon another man. A woman of good family, fearing the loss of her virtue, should conduct herself carefully in private matters; if discovered by attendants, she should immediately depart. Witnessing this wrongful act, Bṛhaspati, noble-minded and deeply angered, cursed Candramas and reproached him harshly for his misdeed. For who, upon seeing his beloved taken by another, could endure it—even if he were a lord? Even the god Candra, out of anger, fought with Bṛhaspati over Tārā. Yet, the Moon was not destroyed by curses, nor by weapons, nor by the spells of gods; nor was he slain by the mantras composed by Bṛhaspati. Candramas took Tārā and established her in his palace, enjoying her company for many years, along with Rohiṇī, without fear. At that time, Candramas could not be overcome by gods, nor by anger, curses, or spells; not by kings, sages, nor by conciliation, division, or punishment. When Bṛhaspati, the guru, could not regain his wife despite every effort and all possible means, Jīva remembered the path of policy. A wise person, setting aside honor and accepting humiliation, pursues his own interest, for losing one’s own interest is folly. Those who know should accomplish their goals by any means; the vain and deluded quickly come to ruin. Resolving thus, the wise Jīva went to Śukra and informed him. Śukra, the poet, knowing Jīva had come, welcomed him with honor. Once Jīva was seated, rested, and duly honored, the guru of the Daityas asked about the reason for his visit. Even enemies who come to one’s home should not be treated with hostility; thus, Jīva explained in detail the abduction of Bṛhaspati’s wife from the beginning. Hearing these words, the poet Śukra became angry. Nārada, upon hearing of this transgression by his disciple Candra, considered it an offense, and the enraged poet spoke: “Then I shall eat, then I shall drink, then I shall sleep, then I shall speak—when, brother, your beloved wife, wronged by another, is restored to you. Bring her here, honor her, curse Candra for betraying his teacher, and only then, O mighty-armed lord of the planets, will I eat—heed my words.” Having spoken thus to Jīva, the preceptor of the Daityas departed. Worshipping Śiva with great effort, he attained supreme power. Receiving various boons from Śaṅkara, worshipped by Bhāva, Śukra, by the grace of Śiva, found nothing unattainable for embodied beings. Śukra then went with Jīva to the place where the Moon resided, and there he loudly cursed the Moon: “Hear my words, O Moon! Because you, out of sinful arrogance, have committed a deed more wicked than sin itself, therefore, O Moon, be afflicted with leprosy!” Thus the sage cursed him in anger. Burned by the sage’s curse, Candramas was immediately marked by a deer. Who indeed does not meet ruin, having betrayed teacher, master, or friend?