Once, in a family of ill-behaved twice-borns, a man took birth. Though his lineage was tainted by misconduct, he was graced with knowledge that followed him from a previous life. In time, he married a maiden who was difficult to approach, herself from a lowly family. As years passed, she blossomed into youth—full-breasted, with beautiful hips, her eyes always heavy with passion. Yet, she could not bear her wicked husband; her heart strayed, longing for other men. Seeking her own livelihood, the woman left her home and, for a long while, lived with a lover of low caste. From this union, she conceived and bore a daughter. By the strange workings of past sins, that very daughter eventually became the wife of her own father. As time wore on, the woman grew old and transformed into a ḍākinī—a fearsome being—her mind corrupted by evil company and the influence of a wicked woman. Driven by a craving for blood, she wandered the dreadful forest, preying upon the sick and upon hunters, until people who saw her cast her out. When her mortal life ended, she entered the world of the dead and was reborn as a tiger among hunters. Because of the violence she had inflicted upon living beings, she suffered terrible torments in hell. At last, seized by the force of death, that wicked soul emerged from hell and was born in my own house—a soul difficult to subdue. O wise one, while I tended her in the forest, I once beheld a fierce leopard, intent on destruction. Terrified for my life, I abandoned my flock of goats and fled. But the leopard, recalling some ancient enmity, pursued the goat. The goat, however, swiftly made for the riverbank. There, she shed her fear and all hostility, standing firm, while the leopard, too, sat silently, free from jealousy. Seeing him thus transformed, the goat spoke: “O leopard, eat as you wish, respectfully taking my flesh. But this is not your true nature; why do you not abandon your hostile intent?” Hearing these words, the leopard, now free from envy, replied: “Here, my hatred has departed, and my hunger and thirst have vanished. Though you are near, I do not desire you.” Freed from fear, the goat spoke again: “How have I become fearless? Do you know the reason? If so, please tell me.” The leopard, an island-dweller, answered: “I do not know, mother. Let us ask the great one ahead.” So together they went forth. When the two approached, I was questioned, greatly astonished. Together with them, I sought out the lord of the monkeys. When I asked him, the learned monkey replied with respect: “Listen, goat-herd, and I will tell you the ancient story. Ahead in this forest lies a great sanctuary where Brahma himself established a three-eyed linga. A wise man of good deeds worshipped there, practicing austerity. He would gather forest flowers and offer them to the deity, bathing the linga with river water, living simply by his own actions. One day, after a long period, a guest arrived. The wise man offered him fruit and prepared it with care. 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 else?’ The self-knowing sage replied, pleased and clear in speech, ‘O wise one, I do not truly know the fruit of these actions. Out of curiosity alone I serve Shambhu. The fruit of this service to the matted-haired one ripens as you favor me, fulfilling the desire of my heart.’ Hearing these truthful words, the ascetic was pleased. He inscribed a second chapter of song upon a stone slab and instructed the Brahmin to recite and study it, assuring him that his wishes would be freely and completely fulfilled. Having spoken thus, the wise one vanished. The Brahmin, astonished, followed the instruction faithfully. Over time, his mind became purified and serene. Wherever he wandered, every hermitage was peaceful. He suffered no pain from the opposites of life, no hunger or thirst, nor any fear. Such was the power of reciting the second chapter, as learned from the ascetic. Mitravan continued: “Thus instructed, I revealed this supreme story. With his gracious permission, I departed, accompanied by the goat and the tiger. Let one go to the stone slab and read the written chapter; by repeating it, he attains the highest limit of austerity. Therefore, O auspicious one, you too should always recite that chapter; by doing so, liberation will not be far from you.” So instructed by that friend, Devaśarman worshipped and bowed, then journeyed to the city of Indra. There, in a certain temple, he met a knower of the Self. He first recounted this event and then recited the chapter. Taught by this sage and pure in heart, he recited the chapter with devotion. By the end of the second month, he attained the flawless, supreme state. Thus has the story of the second chapter been told. Now, O Indira, listen as I describe the greatness of the third.