As I gazed ahead, fear of death seized me, and I fled from the flock of goats I was tending. Behind me, a leopard, stirred by an ancient enmity, gave chase. But the goat, swift and desperate, ran toward the river’s edge. There, something remarkable happened—she shed her fear and let go of all hostility, standing firm and unafraid. The leopard, too, sat down quietly, his heart freed from jealousy. Seeing him thus transformed, the goat spoke: “O leopard, if you wish to eat, do so—take my flesh as you please, with respect.” Then she added, “This is not your true nature. Why do you not give up your hostility?” Hearing her words, the leopard replied, now entirely without envy, “Here, in this place, all hatred has left me. Hunger and thirst are gone. Though you stand so near, I have no desire for you.” Relieved and curious, the goat asked, “How have I become so fearless? Do you know the reason for this? If you do, please tell me.” The leopard, dwelling on the island, answered, “Mother, I do not know. Let us ask the one ahead, the great one.” So together, they went forward. When they both approached me, I was astonished and questioned in turn. Together, we sought the wisdom of the lord of monkeys. When I asked, the learned monkey spoke with respect: “Listen, goat-herd, and I will share with you an ancient tale. “See this great sanctuary ahead in the forest? Here, the three-eyed linga was established by Brahma. A wise and virtuous man practiced austerities here, gathering forest flowers and offering them to the deity before him. He bathed the linga with river water and lived by his righteous actions alone. After some time, a guest arrived. “The ascetic welcomed him, bringing fruit and preparing it as food. Pleased by this hospitality, the guest asked, ‘What is the root of your actions? Why do you remain here after enjoying their fruit? Do you act out of habit, or do you seek something more?’ The self-knowing ascetic replied with clarity and joy, ‘O wise one, I do not truly know the fruit of my actions. Out of curiosity alone, I serve Shambhu. The reward of this service to the matted-haired Lord is that you, favoring me, fulfill my heart’s desire.’ “Hearing these truthful words, the guest was pleased. He inscribed a second chapter of sacred song upon a stone and instructed the Brahmin to recite and study it, saying that by this, his wishes would be fulfilled completely. After giving this instruction, the wise guest vanished. The ascetic, astonished, followed the teaching diligently. “Over time, as his mind became purified and serene, wherever he wandered, every hermitage was peaceful. He suffered no more from the opposites of life—no hunger, no thirst, no fear. This was the fruit of reciting the second chapter, as taught by the ascetic. “Mitravan said: ‘Thus instructed, I revealed this supreme story, and with his blessing, I departed, accompanied by the goat and the tiger. Go to the stone slab and read the inscribed chapter—by repeating it, one 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.’ “Thus instructed by that very friend, Devaśarman worshipped, bowed, and journeyed to the city of Indra. There, at a certain temple, he met a knower of the self. He recounted these events and recited the chapter. Taught by him and pure in heart, Devaśarman recited the chapter with devotion, and at the end of the second month, he attained the flawless supreme state. “This is the story of the second chapter. Now, O Indira, listen as I describe the greatness of the third.” Thus concludes the one hundred and seventy-sixth chapter of the glorious Padma Mahāpurāṇa, Uttarakhaṇḍa, in the section on the greatness of the Gītā, within the dialogue between Satī and Īśvara. Later, the Blessed Lord spoke: “Now, O goddess, I shall briefly tell you the greatness of the fifth, which is honored in the world. Listen attentively, dear one. “There was a brāhmaṇa named Piṅgala in the city of Purukutsa, born to a pure family, renowned among the learned. Yet, abandoning the scriptures and Vedas proper to his lineage, he set his mind on music, mastering the drum and other instruments. Skilled in singing, dancing, and playing, he achieved great fame and entered the king’s palace. “There Piṅgala remained, and, having seduced the wives of others, he enjoyed their company without restraint. Filled with excessive pride, he constantly pointed out others’ faults, doing so even in private. He had a wife named Aruṇā, born to a low family. “One night, Aruṇā, wandering in search of her lover and mindful of obstacles, found him in her own house at midnight. There, she killed him by cutting off his head and buried him in the ground. Thus deprived of life, Piṅgala went to the abode of Yama.” Thus, the stories unfold—each revealing the power of sacred recitation, the fruits of devotion, and the consequences of one’s actions.