There was once a hunter named Puṣkasa, notorious for his wicked ways. Driven by anger, he would roam the forests, killing all manner of birds, and especially sought out peacocks to slay. Puṣkasa was a great sinner, well-liked by other wicked people, and his wife was no better—a deceitful and cunning woman, fierce in nature. As time passed, Puṣkasa continued his cruel wandering. One night, more sinful than ever, he stationed himself atop a śrī tree, his bow ready and an arrow fitted to shoot a jackal. He stayed awake all night, without blinking, on the fourteenth day of the bright half of Māgha, keeping vigil beneath the moon, O daughter of the mountain. In his anger, Puṣkasa cut many leaves from the śrī tree. As he moved about, those leaves fell upon a liṅga lying at the base of the tree. By the mysterious will of fate, these falling leaves became an unintended act of worship to Śiva. Ignorant of the sacredness of his actions, Puṣkasa made water in his mouth and performed a great ablution for the liṅga, though he remained wicked at heart. On that auspicious night, the fourteenth day of the bright fortnight in Māgha, as the moon rose, Puṣkasa—an evil-doer—was purified of his sins. Soon after, his fierce wife, hopeless and hungry, came to him where he was staying. He had not managed to catch a boar, deer, or even a buffalo, so his radiant wife brought him food to eat. As she approached, Puṣkasa saw his fierce wife, her cruel eyes flashing. Suddenly, she fell into the river water. Undeterred, she called out, “Come quickly and eat; I have just brought fish and meat for you.” Then she rebuked him, “What have you done, fool? The meat I brought yesterday is not here. You have eaten it, fool, and you are neglecting your household.” Hearing his wife’s harsh words, Puṣkasa, now changed by the fasting and night vigil of Śivarātri, became pure in heart. He observed a vow of purity and went to bathe in the river. As he bathed, a dog arrived and ate all the meat. Caṇḍā, his wife, became enraged and prepared to kill the dog, but Puṣkasa restrained her, saying, “You must not kill this one—what harm has he done?” Still furious, Caṇḍā protested, “This wicked one has eaten the food; what will you eat, fool, when you become hungry today?” Puṣkasa replied calmly, “The food eaten by the dog has satisfied me. What is the use of this perishable body, whose life is fleeting? Those who nourish their bodies with all their being, O beautiful one, are foolish sinners, excluded from both worlds. Therefore, abandoning pride and desire, as well as wickedness, become steadfast through reflection on your own well-being and understanding of truth.” He continued, “Today, O lovely one, I will renounce this body by the vow of the sword’s edge. What is the point of living long for me?” Having spoken thus, Puṣkasa drew his sword and was about to strike himself. But at that very moment, many hosts sent by Śiva arrived. Celestial vehicles appeared, shining like crystal. The hosts wore Rudrākṣa beads, adorned with crescent moons, their hair matted, clad in hides, and garlanded with serpents. Puṣkasa gazed at them with deep devotion and asked, “Why have you all gathered here, you wearers of Rudrākṣa beads?” The attendants of Rudra replied, “We have been sent by fierce Śiva, the supreme lord. Come quickly, board the vehicle with your wife. The worship of the liṅga that you performed at night for Śiva has brought you the highest state.” Vīrabhadra, one of the hosts, addressed Puṣkasa, who replied, almost laughing, “What good deed have I, a sinner, performed? Being fond of hunting, foolish and wicked, I have always acted sinfully. How can I dwell in heaven? How was the worship of the liṅga performed today? Please tell me, for I am filled with curiosity.” Vīrabhadra explained, “The god of gods, the great lord Gaṅgādhara, is pleased with you today, O fierce one, together with your wife. Today you performed incidental worship, observing the kola tree and bilva leaves. You cut and dropped those leaves, and they fell upon the head of the liṅga. By that, you are blessed, O lord. Your wakefulness atop the great tree pleased the lord of the universe. By mere pretense—by showing the kola fruit—on the night of Shiva, even unintentionally, you observed the fast. By that fasting and wakefulness, the supreme god was pleased; for your sake, the mighty bestower of boons grants all blessings.” Hearing these words, Puṣkasa and his wife ascended the foremost celestial chariot before the eyes of all. Then, kettledrums resounded, and many kinds of trumpets and musical instruments played among the hosts of gods, deities, and all living beings, celebrating the hunter’s unexpected redemption.