In a serene forest by the riverbank, a seeker came upon Mitravan, who sat on a stone, radiant with joy and deep contentment shining in his eyes. The place itself seemed blessed—creatures that were natural enemies had set aside their hostilities, and in the tranquil garden, gentle animals gathered peacefully under the soft, golden sunlight. Amid herds of calm deer, the air was filled with delight and bliss, and it felt as if compassion itself was pouring onto the earth like nectar. The seeker approached Mitravan with humility, his heart uplifted and joyful, bowing his head slightly in reverence. Mitravan, too, honored him in return. When Mitravan completed his meditation, the earnest seeker, Devaśarman, addressed him with great attention: “I wish to know the self. Please instruct me in the means to attain this highest success.” The Blessed Lord narrated: Mitravan paused thoughtfully, then began to speak. “O wise one, let me tell you a story from long ago. On the banks of the Godāvarī river lies the city of Pratiṣṭhāna, where among the learned lived a man named Durdama. There, too, was a king called Vikrama, who lived only to satisfy his own appetites, accepting gifts daily and serving himself above all else. But time, relentless as ever, bound him and led him to the abode of Yama. There, he endured the torments of hell. Afterward, he was reborn among ill-behaved twice-borns, yet he was graced with knowledge carried over from his previous birth. He married a difficult-to-approach maiden from a lowly family. As she grew from childhood into youth, her beauty blossomed—full-breasted, with lovely hips and passionate, intoxicating eyes. But she could not bear her wicked husband and longed for other men. Seeking her livelihood, she left her home and lived for a long time with a lover of low caste. From this union, she conceived a daughter, and, as a result of past misdeeds, that very daughter became the wife of the same man. In time, the woman grew old and became a ḍākinī, a fierce spirit. From bad company, her mind turned wicked, and through association with evil, she developed a craving for blood. She began to devour the sick and hunters, wandering the dreadful forest, shunned by all who saw her. After her death, she was reborn as a tiger among hunters, and because of her violence toward living beings, she suffered terrible torments in hell. Eventually, death seized her once more, and she was born in my own house—a soul hard to subdue. O wise one, while I was caring for her in the forest, I saw a fierce leopard approaching, as if bent on killing everything in sight. Terrified for my life, I abandoned my flock of goats and fled. The leopard, driven by an old enmity, pursued the goat, who quickly ran to the river’s edge. There, the goat shed all fear and hostility, standing firm while the leopard sat nearby, free from jealousy. Witnessing this, the goat addressed the leopard: ‘O leopard, eat as you wish, and take this flesh respectfully. But this is not your true nature—why do you not abandon your hostile intent?’ Hearing this, the leopard replied, free from envy: ‘In this place, my hatred has vanished, and my hunger and thirst have disappeared. Though you are near, I have no desire to harm you.’ The goat, now fearless, asked, ‘How have I become so unafraid? Do you know the reason? If so, please tell me.’ The leopard responded, ‘I do not know, mother. Let us ask the one ahead, the great one.’ And so together, they approached me. Astonished, I joined them in seeking answers from the lord of the monkeys. The wise monkey, when questioned, spoke respectfully: ‘Listen, goat-herd, I will tell you an ancient tale. Ahead in this forest stands a great sanctuary where Brahma himself established a three-eyed linga. A wise and virtuous man worshipped here, practicing austerity, offering forest flowers to the deity before him. He bathed the linga with river water, living by his own actions. After some time, a guest arrived and the ascetic welcomed him, offering fruit as food. Pleased by such hospitality, the guest asked, “What is the root of your actions? Having enjoyed their fruit, why do you remain? Do you act out of habit, or do you seek something more?” The self-knower, pleased, replied sincerely, “O wise one, I do not truly know the fruit of this action; it is with curiosity alone that I serve Shambhu. The result of this service to the matted-haired Lord is that you favor me, fulfilling my heart’s desire.” Hearing these truthful words, the ascetic was pleased. He inscribed a second chapter of song upon the stone and quickly instructed the Brahmin to recite and study it, assuring him that his own wishes would be freely and completely fulfilled.’ Thus, Mitravan concluded his story, revealing the mysteries of karma, devotion, and the subtle workings of destiny in the world.