Both birds, their wings scorched and their strength spent, had fallen together onto the summit of the mountain. There they lay, motionless and unconscious, kinsmen brought low by their ordeal. Witnessing their pitiable state, Aruna was overcome with sorrow. Turning to Bhaskara, the radiant sun-god, Aruna pleaded, “O blazing one, please console these two before they perish.” Moved by Aruna’s words, Surya, the sun-god, agreed and revived the two fallen birds. News of their condition quickly reached Garuda, who arrived at once, bringing with him the great Vishnu. Together, Garuda and Vishnu comforted the two birds, restoring their happiness and peace. Narada, too, along with many others, journeyed to the sacred river Ganga, intent on alleviating their suffering. Thus, Jatayu, Aruna, Sampati, Garuda, Surya, and Vishnu themselves all gathered at that holy tirtha—a place of great merit. This sacred site was known as Patatri Tirtha, famed as the destroyer of poison and the fulfiller of all desires. There, Surya, Vishnu, Garuda, and Aruna reside together. They dwell upon the banks of the Gautami, as does the bull-bannered god, Shiva. With all three deities present, this sacred place is considered supreme. Those who come to this holy spot, bathe and purify themselves, and bow to these gods, are freed from all afflictions and ailments, and attain the highest happiness. This place is also known as Vipra Tirtha and as Narayana. Its story is wondrous, and I shall recount it. In the altar region, there lived a Brahmin, accomplished in the Vedas. His sons were wise, virtuous, beautiful, and compassionate. Among them, the youngest was Asandiva, a youth of great intellect and all-encompassing knowledge. As his father made plans to arrange his marriage, night fell, and Asandiva lay sleeping. But in that unguarded moment, Asandiva, who had neglected to remember Vishnu and whose gentle mind was inattentive, was seized by a fearsome, shape-shifting rakshasi. Swiftly, she carried him away to the southern bank of the Gautami, near the northern shore of Srigiri—a place frequented by many Brahmins. There stood a city, an abode of righteousness and Lakshmi, ruled by King Brihatkirti, a monarch endowed with every royal virtue. By the end of the night, the rakshasi, with Asandiva in tow, reached this prosperous and enchanting city. Taking on various forms as she pleased, the rakshasi roamed the earth. On the southern bank of the Godavari, now appearing as an aged woman, she addressed Asandiva in a terrifying manner. “This is the Ganga, O foremost of Brahmins. At dusk, the excellent Brahmins should worship here, assembling as is proper. Yet, at the appointed time, the best among them do not perform their worship diligently. Among those who are low-born, as declared by the lords of the gods, are the lowest and the best among the outcastes. Say to them, ‘I am your mother, and you are my child.’ If you do not, you will meet your destruction now. “But if you act as I say, O best of twice-born, I will make you happy and do whatever pleases you. I will return you to your land, your home, and your teachers. Truly, I promise this.” Confused and frightened, Asandiva asked, “Who are you?” Though foremost among Brahmins, he was bewildered, and the rakshasi, able to assume any form, sought to win his trust with many oaths. She addressed him, “I am known everywhere as Kankalini.” The Brahmin replied, “Whatever you have declared, I will do exactly that—there is no doubt. Whatever you say that pleases you, I will say and do.” Hearing his words, the rakshasi, though old, was still beautiful and adorned with divine ornaments. She took the Brahmin everywhere, proclaiming, “This is my son, a repository of virtues.” Thus they journeyed, and she spoke and acted accordingly. Seeing the Brahmin—youthful, handsome, distinguished, and virtuous—alongside the aged woman, herself possessed of virtues, people believed she was indeed his mother. There, an excellent Brahmin, seeing the pair, gave his adorned daughter in marriage to Asandiva, presenting the rakshasi as the foremost among them. The maiden, having gained such a husband, rejoiced, thinking she had achieved her purpose. But Asandiva, seeing his virtuous wife, was deeply distressed. He thought, “This rakshasi, evil in form, will surely devour me. What shall I do? Where shall I go? To whom shall I tell this? Who here will save me from this great danger? My wife is auspicious, virtuous, beautiful, and young, yet even she, by some evil fate, the rakshasi will devour.” Meanwhile, the rakshasi, though old, was exceedingly formidable and had gone elsewhere at that time. The young wife, devoted, humble, and respectful, noticed her husband’s distress and quietly spoke to him in private. “Why are you so sorrowful, my lord? Tell me the truth.” Slowly, Asandiva recounted everything as it had happened. “What is there that should not be told to a dear friend or a noble-born woman?” he said. Hearing this, his wife, wise and eloquent, replied, “For one who lacks self-mastery, there is fear everywhere—even at home. But how could there be fear for those who possess self-mastery? What then, on the bank of the Gautami? Among those who dwell here—devoted to Vishnu, detached, and discerning—bathe here, become pure, and praise the flawless Lord.” Taking her counsel, Asandiva bathed in the sacred Ganges, purifying himself from sin, and praised Narayana on the bank of the Gautami: “You are the inner soul, the lord of this world; you alone are its creator, Mukunda, its destroyer, and its protector. You care for the helpless, O Narasimha—why do you not protect?” Hearing his prayer, Narayana, the remover of the world’s sorrow, destroyed the sinful rakshasi with his Sudarshana discus, radiant with a thousand spokes. The Lord granted Asandiva whatever boons he desired and returned him to his guru, fulfilling his wishes and bringing the tale to a blessed close.