As the curse was being uttered, King Saudāsa stood trembling, gripped by fear. Vasiṣṭha, the sage, was not moved by the king’s actions but instead fell into deep contemplation. In his agitation, Saudāsa took up water in his hands, intending to pronounce a curse upon Vasiṣṭha in return. At that critical moment, his virtuous wife, Madayantī, intervened and addressed him before he could act. She spoke with wisdom, saying, “Whatever deed you are destined to experience will surely come to pass—there is no doubt of this. In a waterless wilderness, he will become a dreadful rākṣasa. The scriptures affirm that such ones go to the abode of Brahmā.” Saudāsa hesitated, wondering to himself, “Where should I pour this water?” After some thought, he poured the water at his own feet. From that day forward, the king became widely known as Kalmāṣapāda. Greatly frightened in his heart, he bowed at the feet of his teacher, Vasiṣṭha, and pleaded, “Forgive everything, O venerable one; I have committed no offense.” He reproached himself, lamenting his lack of discernment. “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 then assured him, “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.” Yet, during this period, the king, afflicted by suffering, was transformed into 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 among their kind. The earth became dreadful, marked by the blood-stained hair of corpses and ghosts. Having caused great distress, she plunged 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, the demoness seized him, just as a hunter seizes a young deer. The sage’s wife, placing her joined hands upon her head in supplication and fear, cried out, “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? My husband alone is my supreme kin, my highest life. O lord of people, protect me, bereft of kin, a child with no offspring. I am the daughter of the blessed one—save me by granting my husband. The wise declare thus: grant me the gift of life.” Despite her desperate pleas, the demoness devoured the twice-born sage, just as a tiger seizes a black antelope calf by force. Overwhelmed by rage and grief, the sage’s wife cursed the king, who was already suffering under a previous curse. “Therefore, because of union with a woman, you too shall certainly meet death. May you surely attain the state of a demon, since my husband was devoured.” Pramanyu, filled with anger, unleashed a shower of embers in his wrath. Yet, he declared, “For a single offense, only one curse from me is fitting.