Out of fear, Yama, the lord of death, instantly erased a name from his register, wiping away all record of that soul. For this soul, the path across the world of death was opened, and he would journey by it unhindered. Even sins accumulated over millions of births trembled and fled; all deeds—whether good or bad, ancient or recent—lost their hold on him. Old age and death themselves, daunted by the fear of the divine discus, abandoned him entirely. Freed from all fear, he departed his human body and ascended to Goloka, the highest realm. There, as long as Krishna himself abides in Goloka, so too does that devotee remain, dwelling eternally in the Lord’s presence. At this time, a wise Brahmin spoke, “I know the treatment for every disease; I am a physician. If, within seven days, a person stricken with illness grows as lifeless as the dead or even dies, do not despair—I have summoned royal death, Yama, and Time, along with disease, to stand before you. Because of this, disease does not roam among the bodies of the living, and the evil, inauspicious seed of disease cannot spread. Or, if someone by yoga or severe austerity gives up the body, even then, these forces hold no sway.” Hearing the Brahmin’s words, Mālāvatī, who flourished in virtue, remained steadfast. She spoke with deep respect: “Though you appear so young, your knowledge surpasses all those skilled in yoga. You have promised to restore my beloved to life. Soon, the best among the knowers of the Veda will revive him. In the assembly, when my beloved lived and that powerful one was present, all the gods, beginning with Brahmā and those assembled, bore witness. If a woman protects her husband, no one—not even the gods—can harm him. Among the gods, there is no such power, not even for Indra, Brahmā, or Rudra. The husband is the doer, the taker, the ruler, the nourisher, and the protector. A maiden born into a noble family, obedient to her husband, brings honor; but the wicked woman, the lowest among women, who serves another, brings ruin. I am Upabarhaṇa’s wife and the daughter of Citraratha. You, O best of Veda-knowers, are able to measure all time.” As Mālāvatī finished speaking, the greatest knower of the Veda listened intently. Then, the virtuous Mālatī’s vision opened: she beheld the maiden of death—a smiling, six-armed, peaceful, and compassionate woman, radiant in her chastity. Next, the chaste woman saw Time itself, a portion of Nārāyaṇa, standing before her—six-faced, with sixteen arms and twenty-four eyes. Before her also appeared the god of gods, fearsome and magnificent, in the form of the destroyer of all, yet with a slightly smiling, gracious face, holding a rosary and granting boons. She saw, as well, vast hosts of diseases, formidable and difficult to overcome. Another figure appeared: large-footed, dark in color, righteous—the son of the sun—who knows the judgment of righteousness and unrighteousness, and is himself the very embodiment of supreme righteousness. Seeing these awesome beings, Mālāvatī remained unafraid and first addressed Yama. “O Lord,” she asked, “how do you take my husband before his destined time?” Yama replied, “O virtuous one, without the command of the Supreme Lord, I do not disturb the life of anyone. I am Time, I am the maiden of death, and these are the diseases—all of us, very difficult to overcome.