Among a group of virtuous brothers, the youngest stood out: his name was Asandiva, a youth of great intellect and all-encompassing knowledge. His father, seeking a suitable match for him, was making arrangements for Asandiva’s marriage. One night, as darkness fell and while the household was at rest, Asandiva, the Brahmin’s son, lay asleep. In that unguarded moment, Asandiva—whose mind was gentle but inattentive, and who had forgotten to remember Vishnu—fell prey to a cruel and terrifying rakshasi, a shape-shifter of fearsome aspect. She seized him and, moving swiftly, carried him away to the southern bank of the sacred Gautami river, near the northern slopes of Srigiri, a place known for its gatherings of Brahmins. There stood a righteous city, blessed by Lakshmi herself, ruled by King Brihatkirti, a sovereign adorned with every royal virtue. As the night ended, the rakshasi, still accompanied by the Brahmin’s son, reached this city, a place of prosperity, safety, and enchanting beauty. This rakshasi, who could assume any form at will, wandered the earth in her various guises. Now, with Asandiva at her side on the southern bank of the Godavari, she appeared before him as an aged woman and addressed him in a voice that inspired dread. She said, “This is the sacred Ganga, O foremost of Brahmins. At dusk, the best among Brahmins should gather and worship her as is proper. Yet, at the appointed hour, these excellent Brahmins do not perform their worship with diligence. Those who are low-born, as declared by the lords of the gods, are the lowest and yet the best among outcastes. Go to them and say, ‘I am your mother, and you are my child.’ If you do not do this, you will meet your destruction here and now. But if you act according to my words, O best of the twice-born, I will make you happy, do whatever pleases you, and return you to your homeland, your home, and your teachers. Truly, I promise this.” Confused and anxious, Asandiva asked her, “Who are you?” The rakshasi, seeking to win his trust, swore many oaths and spoke to the bewildered sage, “Everywhere I am known as Kankalini.” To this, Asandiva replied, “Whatever you have declared, I will do exactly as you say—without doubt. Whatever pleases you, I will say and do.” Pleased by his words, the rakshasi, who despite her aged appearance still possessed a certain beauty and was adorned with divine ornaments, took Asandiva everywhere with her, proclaiming, “This is my son, a repository of virtues.” Wherever they went, she spoke and acted in this manner. People, seeing Asandiva’s beauty, fortune, youth, knowledge, and distinction, and the old woman’s virtuous demeanor, believed she truly was his mother. In time, an excellent Brahmin, who had a daughter adorned with ornaments, offered her in marriage to Asandiva, presenting the rakshasi as the foremost among them. The maiden, rejoicing at having obtained such a worthy husband, thought her heart’s desire fulfilled. But Asandiva, seeing his wife’s virtues, was deeply troubled. He thought, “This rakshasi, evil in form, will surely devour me. What can I do? Where can I go? To whom can I tell this? Who here will save me from this great danger? My wife is auspicious, virtuous, beautiful, and youthful, yet even she, by some cruel fate, will be devoured by the rakshasi.” At that time, the rakshasi—though appearing old, was exceedingly formidable—had gone elsewhere. Asandiva’s young wife, devoted and humble, noticed her husband’s distress. In private, she gently asked him, “Why have you fallen into sorrow, my lord? Tell me the truth.” Slowly, Asandiva recounted everything to her, holding nothing back, for what should be withheld from a dear friend and a noble wife? Hearing her husband’s words, the wise and eloquent wife replied, “For one who lacks self-mastery, there is fear everywhere—even at home. But for those who possess self-mastery, what is there to fear, even on the bank of the Gautami? Among the people here, there are those 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 of sin, and on the banks of the Gautami, he praised Narayana, saying, “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 heartfelt prayer, Narayana, remover of the world’s sorrows, destroyed the sinful rakshasi. With the radiant Sudarshana discus, shining with a thousand spokes, the Lord granted Asandiva his desired boons and returned him to his guru. From that time, the sacred place became known as Narayana’s, along with the Brahmin. There, bathing, giving, worship, and all sacred rites are said to fulfill one’s wishes. This holy region is renowned for many tirthas: Bhanu Tirtha, as well as the Tvastra, Maheshvara, Indra, Yama, and Agneya tirthas—all destroyers of every sin. There was also a king named Priyadarshana, called Abhishtuta, who began a virtuous horse-sacrifice in worship of the gods. Sixteen officiating priests, led by Vasishta and Atri, were present. As they prepared, a question arose: when a Kshatriya is the sacrificer, how should the sacrificial ground be arranged? When a Brahmin is initiated, the king gives the sacrificial land; but when the king himself is initiated, who gives and who receives? They pondered: the act of asking is said to be both the source of happiness and sinful, and should not be done—especially by a Kshatriya. As the Brahmins debated, the wise Vasishta, best knower of dharma, spoke: “When the king is being initiated, the Sun should be asked for the land. The king should pray, ‘Give me, O god Savitar, a place for worship suitable for the gods.’ O Brahmin, you are both divine and royal, lord of beings—salutations to you. Thus, Savitar is asked by the king for the auspicious worship of the gods.” In this way, the king gives, and prays to the Sun, the lord, for the success of the sacrifice.