After many years had passed, the king resolved to perform the grand Aśvamedha sacrifice. With devotion and care, he offered oblations to Brahmā and the other gods, following the sacred rites as prescribed. But amidst the solemnity of the ritual, a figure arrived, seething with anger, and approached the king to demand recompense. Standing before the king, he declared, “I wish to eat meat.” At that moment, the king was standing, holding the vessel of offering meant for Hari, awaiting the arrival of his revered guru. When his guru finally arrived, the king respectfully presented the offering to him. Witnessing this, the guru was astonished and wondered to himself, “Why is this so?” Distressed, the guru lamented, “Alas, this king has acted wickedly—he has given me what is unfit to eat. O lord of the earth, you have given me impure food to harm me. You have given me human flesh, which is food only for demons.” As the curse was being pronounced, Saudāsa, the king, was overcome by fear and stood trembling. Vasiṣṭha, the guru, though not instigated by Saudāsa, began to reflect deeply on the situation. Meanwhile, the king, filled with agitation, also took up water, preparing to curse Vasiṣṭha in return. At that crucial moment, his virtuous wife Madayantī spoke to him as he was about to act: “Whatever deed you are destined to experience will certainly come to pass—there is no doubt of this. In a waterless wilderness, he will become a dreadful rākṣasa. It is established in the scriptures that such ones go to the abode of Brahmā.” The king, now uncertain, wondered to himself, “Where should I pour this water?” After much thought, he chose to pour the water at his own feet. From that day forward, he became widely known as Kalmāṣapāda. Deeply frightened and remorseful, he bowed at the feet of his teacher and pleaded, “Forgive everything, O venerable one; I have committed no offense.” He reproached himself for his lack of discernment, recognizing, “One without discernment in this world is truly like a beast—there is no doubt. Because I am ignorant and lack discernment, I have committed this sin. Who, having no discernment, attains happiness—who indeed, or who finds no distress?” Vasiṣṭha, moved by his repentance, declared, “This will not be an endless condition; it will last for twelve years. You will regain your former state and enjoy this earth once more.” During this period, the king, afflicted by suffering, took on the form of a demoness. With a terrifying appearance, dark as night, she wandered alone in the desolate forest. She devoured birds and monkeys, even those considered excellent. The earth became dreadful, marked by blood-stained hair from corpses and ghosts. After causing great distress, she ventured deeper into the forest. Eventually, she reached the banks of the Narmada, a place frequented by sages and perfected beings. There, she saw a certain sage delighting in the company of his beloved. With great speed, she seized him, as a hunter seizes a young deer. Overcome by fear, the sage’s beloved placed her joined hands upon her head and pleaded, “By granting what is dearest—life itself—fulfill my cherished desire. Do not let the demon harm me, who am helpless, in this lonely forest. Yet, O destroyer of foes, what shall I say of my young widowhood?