There once was a man deeply respected for his devotion to tradition and his mastery of the Vedic scriptures. He arranged many sacrificial rites and was always dear to ascetics, honoring guests according to custom. For a long time, he satisfied the gods with his offerings into the sacred fire. Yet, despite his righteousness, true and lasting peace eluded him. Longing for the highest good, he devoted himself to serving ascetics—those steadfast in truth—day after day, observing every proper rite with care. As the years passed and his service continued, a remarkable event occurred: a person who had transcended all actions appeared on earth, someone wholly free from desire, his gaze fixed steadily at the tip of his nose, his mind tranquil and absorbed in meditation upon the blissful, supreme Brahman. With a heart full of reverence, the devoted man approached this ascetic, took hold of his feet, and honored him with all the rites due to a learned and noble guest. With pure intent, he bowed and, when the ascetic was satisfied, asked him about the path to nirvana, desiring to know the ultimate state for himself. The ascetic told him, in that ancient city, about Mitravan, a knower of the self and the teacher of Ajapala. After bowing and touching the ascetic’s feet, the seeker entered the splendid city and made his way to its northern region, where he found a vast and enchanting forest. This forest was alive with beauty: flowers swayed in the breeze, their fragrance filling the air, and intoxicated bees sang melodiously in every direction. There, on the riverbank, seated upon a stone, he saw Mitravan himself—joyful, his gaze radiant with contentment. Within that garden, even natural enmity was set aside: creatures who would normally oppose each other rested in harmony, gentle animals all around, the sun shining softly. Amidst peaceful herds of deer, delight and bliss abounded, and compassion seemed to pour onto the earth itself like nectar. Approaching with humility, his mind uplifted and joyful, the seeker bowed his head slightly. Mitravan, in turn, honored him as well. When Mitravan had finished his meditation, the seeker, single-minded and attentive, approached and questioned him. “Devaśarman said: I wish to know the self. In this desire of mine, please instruct me in the means to attain success.” The Blessed Lord replied: After reflecting for a moment, Mitravan spoke. “Wise one, I will recount to you what happened long ago. On the banks of the Godāvarī, there is a city called Pratiṣṭhāna. Among the wise there was one named Durdama. There also lived a king named Vikrama, who, though served by many, lived only to satisfy his own appetite, accepting gifts day after day. Bound by the noose of time, he was taken to the abode of Yama and, after experiencing all the torments of hell, was reborn in the family of ill-behaved twice-born. Yet, knowledge from his previous birth accompanied and honored him. He married a difficult-to-approach maiden from a lowly family. As time passed and she grew into youth, she became full-breasted, beautiful-hipped, her eyes intoxicated with passion. She could not endure her wicked husband and desired other men. Seeking her livelihood, she left her home and for a long time lived with a lover of low caste. She conceived by him and bore a daughter. That very daughter, by the influence of previous sin, became his wife. In time, the woman grew old and became a ḍākinī, a fierce spirit. Through bad company, her mind became wicked, and from association with evil, she developed a craving for the taste of blood. She devoured the sick and hunters, wandering the dreadful forest, until she was cast out by those who saw her. After reaching the world of the dead, she was reborn as a tiger among hunters. Because of her violence toward living beings, she endured terrible hells. Eventually, seized by the force of death, she came from hell and was born in my house, difficult to subdue. O wise one, while I was caring for her in the forest, I saw a fierce leopard, as if intent on killing everything. Terrified of death, I abandoned my flock of goats and fled. The leopard, remembering an old enmity, pursued, but the goat quickly reached the river. There, she cast off her fear and abandoned enmity entirely. She stood firm, and the leopard sat silently, free from jealousy. Seeing him thus, she spoke: ‘O leopard, eat as you wish, respectfully taking my flesh. This is not your nature, so why do you not abandon your hostile intent?’ The leopard replied, free from envy: ‘Here, my hatred has departed, and hunger and thirst are gone; though you are near, I do not desire you.’ Thus freed, she spoke again: ‘How have I become fearless? Do you know the reason? If so, please tell me.’ The island-dweller replied: ‘I do not know, mother. Let us ask the one ahead, the great one.’ And so they went forth. When both approached, I was questioned, greatly astonished. Together with them, I asked the lord of monkeys. Questioned by me, the learned monkey respectfully spoke: ‘Listen, goat-herd, I will tell you the ancient story here.