She roamed the land in a frenzy, devouring birds and monkeys—even those considered the finest among their kind. The earth itself became a terrifying sight, strewn with corpses and haunted by ghosts, its surface adorned with blood-matted hair. Having sown such fear and distress, she plunged deep into the forest’s heart. Eventually, she arrived at the sacred banks of the Narmada River, a place frequented by sages and those perfected in their spiritual practice. There, her gaze fell upon a sage who was delighting in the company of his beloved. With the swiftness of a hunter seizing a young deer, she sprang forward and captured him. Overcome with terror, the sage’s beloved placed her joined hands upon her head and pleaded, her voice trembling: “Grant me that which is dearest—my husband’s life. Do not let this demon harm me, helpless and alone in this desolate forest. What can I say of my sudden widowhood? My husband is my only kin, my very life. O lord of people, protect me, for I am bereft of family and have no child. I am the daughter of the blessed one—save me by sparing my husband. The wise declare: grant me the gift of life.” Despite her desperate pleas, the demon paid no heed and, like a tiger overpowering a black antelope calf, devoured the twice-born sage. Enraged by this cruelty, the widow cursed the king, who was already suffering from a previous curse: “Because of your union with a woman, you too shall surely meet death. Since my husband was devoured, may you attain the state of a demon.” Pramanyu, filled with wrath, unleashed a shower of burning embers. “For a single offense, one curse from me is enough,” he declared. “Now, together with your son, go at once to be born among the spirits.” Hungry and possessed of a dreadful voice, she wailed terribly, surrounded by her children. They made their way to a forest on the Narmada’s bank, a haunt of demons. There dwelled one tormented by grief, living in opposition to the world—a brahma-rakshasa, full of rage, standing beneath a banyan tree. He cried out, “Tell me truly—by what sin have such as these been born to me?” After hearing the whole tale, he spoke again: “Out of great affection for my friend, you must tell me everything. One who commits a sinful act endures torment for ten thousand ages. Therefore, a wise man should never deceive his friends.” Pleased, Narada spoke words filled with righteousness. “I am known as Somadatta, devoted to righteousness. Yet, because I showed indifference to my teacher, I have fallen into this state. Worse, I have devoured Brahmins by the hundreds and thousands. He who constantly brings fear into the world and delights in flesh—such suffering as I have experienced. Therefore, illustrious one, such actions should never be done.” “In the same way, Sarave, tell me everything, for my curiosity is great.” “I have come,” Sarave replied, “and I will tell you—listen attentively, O Sarave.