The number of such people, it is said, cannot be counted even in tens of millions of years. In this tale, a certain man journeyed to the city of the king of Sauvīra, a place blessed with every form of prosperity. This city, adorned with bustling markets, shone with a splendor reminiscent of the celestial realms themselves. Its golden spires glittered in the sunlight, and as the hunter beheld this sight, his heart filled with joy. Yet, among those drawn to the city was a thief, driven by greed and the desire to steal. He slipped into the city’s inner quarters, seeking opportunity. There, his eyes fell upon Uttanka, a sage renowned as a treasury of austerities, wholly devoted to the service of Viṣṇu. As the thief prepared to act, he found his path blocked by Uttanka. The hunter, weapon in hand and intoxicated by pride, rushed forward, intent on seizing the sage. Seeing the hunter’s aggressive intent, Uttanka calmly addressed him: “Tell me, O wise one, what offense have I committed against you? Even the virtuous do not slay the wicked without cause. Those who are truly virtuous, their hearts at peace, do not engage in hostility. Such a person is considered the highest among men, ever dear to Viṣṇu. “Consider the sandalwood tree: even when cut, it perfumes the axe with its fragrance. In the same way, though free from all attachments, the virtuous may be afflicted by the wicked. Yet, even when harmed, they are never harmed by equals—only by those of lesser understanding. In this world, hunters, fishermen, and slanderers are enemies without reason. “For the sake of son, friend, wife, and wealth, people endure all manner of suffering, but in the end, they must abandon all and depart alone. The notion of ‘mine’ binds creatures needlessly. Let virtue and vice remain with us in this world and the next; there is no other companion. When food with ghee is offered into the mouth of the dead, it is they who partake of it. “In truth, neither virtue nor vice, nor wealth, nor sons, nor relatives remain forever. For those of virtuous deeds, desire itself diminishes. People trouble themselves in vain with the gathering and giving of wealth, but those whose minds are thus resolved are never troubled by anxiety. Only fate knows birth and death; no one else. Yet, even knowing this, people make fruitless efforts. “Even after committing great sins, some strive earnestly to benefit others, but it is the foolish person alone who experiences the fruit of his own sin.” Hearing these words, Gulika—the hunter—bowed with joined palms and pleaded, “Forgive me.” Freed from his sins and filled with repentance, the hunter spoke again: “O best of Brahmins, your very sight has destroyed all my sins. How can I further atone? To whom shall I seek refuge, O Lord? Having committed these nets of sin, what state awaits me? What remedy is there for my actions, and what will be my fate or my next birth? How long must I endure the fruits of my fierce deeds—through how many births?” Tormented by the fire of remorse, the hunter’s life came to an end then and there. The wise Uttanka, moved by compassion, anointed the hunter with water sanctified by Viṣṇu’s feet. At that moment, the hunter ascended into a divine aerial chariot, and, shining with newfound grace, he spoke to the sage.