Once, in the eastern lands, there lived a powerful and prosperous ruler named Pavamana. He was devoted to the duties of a kshatriya, upholding righteousness and protecting both the gods and Brahmins. Endowed with great strength, Pavamana often ventured into the forest accompanied by his priests. There, he delighted in the company of graceful women and reveled in music, dance, and pleasures suited to a king. One day, as he wandered through the woods, armed with his bow and surrounded by hunters eager for the chase, the king grew weary. Seeking rest, he approached a tree growing on the banks of the sacred Gautami river. This tree, encircled by many kinds of birds, was revered much like a householder sage who understands righteousness. Taking shelter beneath this noble tree, which stood near a chief of mountains, King Pavamana, surrounded by his retinue, sat down and gazed at the splendid mountain before him. It was then that he noticed an extraordinary sight: a large, two-faced bird of striking appearance, absorbed in thought and clearly weary. The king approached and questioned the creature, curiosity and concern in his voice. “Who are you, two-faced bird? You seem lost in deep contemplation. No one here appears afflicted by sorrow—what brings you such grief?” The bird, whose name was Chiccika, sighed repeatedly. With his mind somewhat calmed, he answered the king slowly. “I have no fear of anyone, nor has anyone done me harm. This mountain, adorned with many kinds of flowers and fruits, is served by sages. Yet, to me, the mountain feels empty. I grieve for myself; I find no happiness, no satisfaction, no rest, nor sleep, nor contentment anywhere.” Hearing these words from the two-mouthed Brahmin bird, the king was greatly astonished. He asked, “Who are you? What sin have you committed? And why is this mountain so desolate? Here, living beings are satisfied with a single mouth—yet with two, you still find no satisfaction? What evil deed have you done in this birth, or perhaps in a past one? Tell me the truth of it all; I will protect you from great fear.” With another sigh, the Brahmin named Ciccika began to relate his story to King Pavamana. “Listen, O Pavamana, to my former tale. I was once a foremost twice-born, accomplished in the Vedas and all their branches. Born in a noble family known for wisdom, I was a destroyer of duties, fond of quarrel, speaking one thing to a person’s face, another behind their back, and yet another among others. “I was always distressed by others’ prosperity, deceiving the world with illusion, ungrateful, devoid of truth, and skilled in slander. I betrayed friends, masters, and teachers, practiced hypocrisy, and was extremely cruel, tormenting many people by thought, word, and deed. My only delight was in harming others, breaking up pairs, destroying groups, and ever violating boundaries. I acted without discernment, turned away from serving the wise, and in all the three worlds, there was no sinner equal to me. “Because of this, I was born two-mouthed, afflicted by suffering and misfortune. Tormented by sorrow, I have caused this mountain to become desolate. “Hear further, O king, words of righteousness and purpose: a sin equal to brahmin-murder can be incurred even without committing that act. If a kshatriya, whether in battle or outside it, kills one who flees, who has laid down his weapons, who is trusting, or who has turned away—or one who is unrecognized, seated, or says ‘I am afraid’—such a kshatriya is deemed a brahmin-slayer. One who forgets what he has studied, acts against what is right, or disrespects teachers is also called a brahmin-slayer. He who speaks pleasantly in person but harshly in absence, who harbors one thing in his heart, says another, and does something else—such a one is a brahmin-slayer. He who takes false oaths against teachers, who hates or slanders Brahmins, who is falsely humble and wicked in soul—he, too, is a brahmin-slayer. Whoever, out of hatred, reviles the gods, the Veda, the Self, or the company of righteous Brahmins—such a one is indeed a slayer of Brahman. “Though I was thus, O King, for the sake of hypocrisy and out of shame, I conducted myself as if I were of good conduct; therefore, I was born a twice-born. Yet, even being such, I performed some good deed somewhere. By that act, O King, I am now able to recall what I have done before.” Hearing these words, King Pavamana was filled with wonder and asked the twice-born bird, “By what act were you liberated?” The king of birds replied, “Upon this very best of mountains, on the northern bank of the Gautami, there is a sacred place called Gadādhara. Lead me there, O virtuous one. That holy place is the most sacred, the destroyer of all sins, the giver of all desires—so have the great sages said. Nowhere else on the Gautami, nor even in the abodes of Vishnu, is there such a remover of suffering. With all my being, I long to see that sacred place. “By my own effort, I cannot attain it; how can those of evil deeds reach the desired goal? Even with effort, O hero, I cannot see that place, for it is extremely difficult. Therefore, by your grace, may I behold Gadādhara. He who knows the unspoken sorrow, who is the abode of compassion and mercy—upon seeing him, the sufferings of existence are never seen again by men. By your grace, O virtuous one, upon seeing him, I shall ascend to heaven.” Thus, the sorrowful tale of Ciccika was revealed to King Pavamana, who listened with compassion and resolve.