Listen, O wise one, to a virtuous tale that unfolds on the sacred southern bank of the Gaṅgā, along the northern slopes of Śrīgiri. There stands the holy abode of Mahādeva, known as Ādikeśa, the ancient Lord. In the form of a liṅga, he is ceaselessly worshipped by sages, ever granting the wishes of those who approach him with devotion. Among the sages who dwelt in that place was Sindhudvīpa, celebrated for his supreme righteousness. His brother, Veda, was also a seer of great renown. Each day, as the sun reached its zenith, the three-eyed Ādikeśa—the destroyer of Tripura—was worshipped with utmost devotion. It was the custom of Veda, the wise and twice-born, to go into the village to beg for alms. During his absence, a hunter of great virtue would arrive in the holy mountains. This hunter roamed the forests daily, wandering widely and hunting as he pleased. The hunter would carry water in his mouth, intending it for the anointing of the trident-bearing Lord. He would also place pieces of meat on the tip of his bow. Weary from his wanderings, he would approach the shrine of Śiva. Upon reaching Ādikeśa, the hunter would set the meat aside and go to the Gaṅgā, where he would again take water into his mouth and return to offer it to Śiva. With devotion, he would gather leaves, and, mind focused, he would offer other pieces of meat as well. Arriving at the liṅga, where Veda had already performed powerful worship, the hunter would strike that worship aside with his foot and pour the water he had carried in his mouth over the deity. He would then bathe Lord Śiva, adorn him with leaves, and offer the meat, praying, “May Śiva be pleased with me.” Unaware of the proper rituals or auspicious ways of devotion, the hunter simply followed his heart; after the offering, he would take the remaining meat and return home as he had come. Day after day, he performed this simple, heartfelt worship. And yet, wondrously, the Lord was deeply satisfied with him. Such is the mysterious compassion of Śiva. Indeed, Śiva would find no happiness until the hunter came to worship him. Who can fathom the boundless love and grace that Śambhu bestows upon his devotees? Every day, the hunter worshipped the Primeval Lord Śiva and his consort Uma in this manner. In time, however, Veda became angry. Veda thought, “Whoever destroys a worship adorned with mantras and devotion to Śiva is truly sinful and deserves to be slain by me. One who betrays a teacher, deity, a twice-born, or a master is fit for death, even at the hands of a sage; but above all, one who is hostile to Śiva deserves to die.” Reflecting thus, Veda and his brother Sindhu wondered, “Who is this wicked soul, whose evil deed disturbs our worship?” Veda reasoned, “He who destroys a worship performed with forest flowers, divine bulbs, roots, and auspicious fruits, and then performs his own worship with flesh and leaves—he too is fit for death at my hands.” So resolved, the sage concealed himself, wishing to catch the culprit in the act. “I wish to see for myself this sinner who dares to worship the Lord,” Veda thought. Meanwhile, the hunter approached the deity as he always did. As the hunter began his worship, the Primeval Lord himself spoke to him. “O wise hunter,” said Śiva, “again and again you come to me, weary from your travels. Why have you been away so long? Without you, dear one, I find no happiness at all. Take comfort, my son.” Hearing these words of the Lord, Veda looked on, overcome by amazement and anger, yet remained silent. The hunter, as was his custom, completed his worship and returned home. But Veda, now burning with rage, approached the Lord and spoke: “This hunter is devoted to sin, ignorant of proper rites, cruel, intent on harming living beings, and merciless to all creatures. He is of low birth, unlearned, without a teacher’s guidance, always acting improperly, and has never even subdued a single cow. He has revealed himself to you, yet you say nothing to me, O Lord, while I perform your worship with proper mantras and vows. This hunter, who has taken refuge in you alone, always without wife or child, worships you with impure meat. It is astonishing that you are pleased with him and not with me. I will punish this Bhilla, who has done wrong. Someone may be pleased with clay, or with a wicked person, but for me, I should cast a stone upon my own head.” When Veda had spoken thus, the Lord laughed and replied, “Wait until tomorrow, then cast the stone upon my head.” “So be it,” said Veda, setting aside a stone and restraining his anger, “I will do it tomorrow.” The next morning, after bathing and completing his daily rites, Veda began his worship as usual. But when he looked upon the liṅga, he saw a terrible wound, from which blood streamed down the head of the deity. Astonished, Veda wondered, “What is this on the liṅga’s head?” He thought, “For whom has such an ominous sign appeared? What does it mean?” He washed the wound with clay, cow dung, kuśa grass, and water from the Gaṅgā, and then performed his worship as usual. At that moment, the hunter, now freed from all sin, arrived. Within the liṅga, the hunter beheld the head of Śaṅkara himself, wounded and covered in blood. Struck by this marvelous and terrible sight, he cried, “What is this wonder?” And, overwhelmed with remorse, he pierced himself a hundred, a thousand times with his sharp arrows. Thus, the mysterious and compassionate ways of Śiva were revealed to all present, showing that the Lord’s grace knows no bounds and that the sincerity of a devotee’s heart outweighs all else.