Kāñcanamālinī gazed with compassion upon the fearsome Rākṣasa before her and, seeking to understand his plight, gently asked, “For my own understanding, noble one, please tell me your story. By what actions were you born into such a terrifying and deformed form?” The Rākṣasa, with his wild beard, long fangs, and flesh-stained mouth, dwelling in mountain caves, replied, “You are one who gives and receives with understanding, who speaks and listens to secrets, who asks with kindness. Indeed, O gentle lady, the virtuous rejoice in your presence and honor you, for all good qualities are established in you. Surely, O woman with beautiful eyes, you are esteemed among them. “O auspicious one, you will soon bring about a remedy for this cruel fate of mine. Therefore, I will tell you, gentle lady, the wrongdoing I myself have committed. When one reveals his sorrow to the virtuous, happiness returns. Listen, O woman with lovely hips: I am a master of the Rig Veda, learned in Vedic lore, and born in the city of Kashi. “In a former life, I was a foremost Brahmin, born into a great and pure lineage. Among sinful kings, Shudras, and the common people, I lived in Varanasi. There, I accepted wicked gifts—a terrible act. Though many warned me against it, I repeatedly took those gifts and was much reviled for it. “I did not even refuse wicked gifts from a Chandala, and in my deluded state, I committed many other sins. There was no evil deed I did not do. Hear also, O fair-complexioned one, of another fault: in the sacred field of Avimukta, even the smallest sin becomes as weighty as Mount Meru. In that birth, I accumulated no merit at all. “After a long time, I died there itself, O lovely one. Yet by the power of Avimukta, I did not go to hell. It is said that one who dies in Avimukta, however sinful, does not descend to hell; but any sin committed there becomes firm, like a thunderbolt. “Because of that sin, fixed like a thunderbolt, my next birth became demonic—a fierce and exceedingly cruel existence in the snowy mountains. Twice I was born as a vulture, thrice as a tiger, twice as a serpent, once as an owl, and then as a wild boar. This, radiant lady, is now my tenth birth as a Rākṣasa. Thousands of years have passed in these births. “O gentle one, there is no remedy for me from this ocean of sorrow. Here, O beautiful-browed one, I have made three yojanas devoid of living beings. I have destroyed many innocent creatures, and because of that, my mind is constantly tormented. “But now, my mind, cooled by the nectar of seeing you, has found peace. A holy place bears fruit in time, but the company of the virtuous does so immediately. Therefore, the wise praise association with the virtuous. All this, my heart’s sorrow, I have told you. “Rare is the virtuous person, O beautiful-browed one, whose own self is not afflicted. You know what is proper here, so I will say nothing further. Thinking, ‘How can I cross this ocean of sorrow?’—the company of the virtuous is the support and sustenance for all. “The ocean of milk gives its water to the swan, not to the crane.” Dattatreya said: Thus, hearing his words, the hearts of Kāñcanamālinī and those present were softened with compassion. With her mind set on the gift of righteousness, Kāñcanamālinī sang, “I will make amends for you—protect me now, do not grieve. Having made a firm vow, I will strive for your liberation. For many Māgha observances have I performed each year as prescribed. “With faith, O blessed one, I have performed vows in the sacred fields of Brahmā, both white and black. I will tell you the count of that merit, O Rākṣasa. Wise people have said that righteousness should be practiced in secret; sages who know the Vedas praise giving to those in distress. “O blessed one, when it rains into the ocean, what fruit does the cloud gain? I myself have experienced the fruit born of that merit, O Rākṣasa. That merit I will give to you, friend, which instantly destroys sin.” Then, wringing out a cloth, she placed water in the lotus of her hand. She gave that Māgha-born merit to the aged Rākṣasa. Listen, O king, to the wondrous power arising from the observance of Māgha. Then, having received that merit, the Rākṣasa’s monstrous body was suddenly freed. A divine form appeared, radiant like the image of the sun. Mounted upon the path of the gods, his eyes blossoming with joy, he shone in the sky, illuminating all directions with his radiance. Wearing a divine form, he shone like a second sun. Then, filled with happiness, he praised Kāñcanamālinī among the virtuous, saying, “O blessed one, the Lord, giver of the fruits of actions, knows all. All that you have done for me—there is no atonement left for me. “Now, out of compassion, be gracious and grant me your favor. Instruct me, O goddess, in all the auspicious ways of righteousness. Teach me to perform all duties so that I never commit sin. Having heard that from you and with your permission, I will later go to the abode of the gods.” Dattatreya said: Hearing these dear, righteous words spoken by him, Kāñcanamālinī, overjoyed, spoke of righteousness, O king: “Always follow righteousness; abandon harming living beings, serve the virtuous, conquer the enemy called desire. Quickly give up speaking of others’ faults and virtues, speak the truth, worship Hari, and go to the world of the gods. “Abandon attachment to your body made of bones, flesh, and blood. Always renounce possessiveness toward wife, children, and others. See this world as ever fleeting, delight in the taste of detachment, and be steadfast in yoga. “Out of affection I have told you the path of righteousness. Fix your mind wholly upon it, be endowed with good conduct. Abandoning the Rākṣasa body, having taken a divine form of light, go swiftly and happily to heaven.” Hearing her righteous words, the delighted and contented demon said, “May you always be joyful, and may well-being ever be yours. “Dwell on Kailāsa in the presence of Śiva as long as the moon and sun endure; may your love with Umā remain unbroken, O one of excellent complexion.