As the journey continued through the forest, a marvelous sanctuary appeared ahead—a sacred place where Brahma himself had established the three-eyed linga. Here, a wise and virtuous man devoted himself in worship, practicing austerities with unwavering discipline. He gathered flowers from the forest and offered them reverently to the deity before him. Each day, he bathed the linga with fresh river water, sustaining himself solely through his own actions and devotion. After a long period of such dedicated service, a guest arrived at his hermitage. The ascetic welcomed the visitor, bringing fruit as food and preparing it with care. Pleased by this hospitality, the guest addressed the virtuous man: “What is the root of your actions? Having enjoyed their fruits, why do you remain? Do you act out of habit, or do you seek something else?” The self-knower, pleased by the inquiry, replied with clarity and sincerity: “O wise one, I do not truly know the fruit of my actions; out of curiosity alone, I serve Shambhu. Yet, the reward for serving the matted-haired one ripens as you favor me, fulfilling my heart’s desire.” Hearing such truthful words, the ascetic was delighted. He inscribed a second chapter of sacred song upon a stone and quickly instructed the Brahmin to recite and study it, promising that his own wish would be freely fulfilled. Having spoken thus, the wise guest vanished from sight, leaving the Brahmin astonished. The Brahmin faithfully followed the instruction, reciting the chapter constantly. Over time, his mind became purified and serene. Wherever he wandered, each hermitage he visited was peaceful. He experienced no suffering from the opposites, no hunger or thirst, nor any fear. This was the result for the ascetic who recited the second chapter. Mitravan then spoke: “Thus addressed by him, I revealed the supreme story; with his gracious permission, I departed, accompanied by the goat and the tiger.” He advised, “Go to the stone slab and read the written 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 his friend, Devaśarman worshipped and bowed, then departed for the city of Indra. There, in a certain temple, he met a knower of the self, reported this event, and recited the chapter. Taught by the sage, Devaśarman, pure in heart, recited the chapter with devotion. At the end of the second month, he attained the flawless supreme state. The story of the second chapter has thus been told. Now, listen as the greatness of the third is described, O Indira. So 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 fifty-five-thousand-verse collection, in the dialogue between Satī and Īśvara. Later, the Blessed Lord spoke: “Now, O goddess, I will briefly tell you the greatness of the fifth, honored throughout the world. Listen attentively, dear one. “There was a brāhmaṇa named Piṅgala, born in a pure family in the city of Purukutsa, renowned among those learned in the Vedas. Yet, abandoning the scriptures and Vedas proper to his lineage, he set his mind on music, playing instruments like the drum and others. He became skilled in singing, dancing, and playing, attaining great fame and entering the king’s palace. There he remained with the king, and, seducing others’ wives, enjoyed them with undivided attention. “Filled with excessive pride, unrestrained, and constantly pointing out others’ faults, he continued these actions in private. He had a wife named Aruṇā, born in a low family. She, wandering about with her lover and seeking him, finally met him at midnight in her own house. 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. “After suffering the unconquerable hells, he was reborn as a vulture in a deserted forest. Aruṇā, afflicted with a disease of the anus, abandoned her beautiful body and, having reached terrible hells, was then born as a parrot in that forest, wandering here and there, seeking grains. “The vulture, recalling his enmity, tore the parrot with his sharp claws as she fell into a skull filled with water. The vulture also rushed forward and struck her with his talons. Separated from his mate, he too lost his life in the water of the human skull. There, both sank, and the exceedingly cruel bird as well. The servants of Yama took them to the world of the ancestors, where, remembering their former evil deeds, they were filled with fear. “Then Yama, seeing the repugnant deeds of both, suddenly perceived that by the bath at their death, a great merit had arisen. He permitted both to go to the desired world, though their minds were oppressed by the multitude of their sins. “Amazed, recalling their own evil deeds, they approached Vaivasvata, bowing and questioning him: ‘The evil previously accumulated by us is indeed blameworthy; tell us, what is the reason that we have attained the worlds desired by all?’ “Vaivasvata replied, ‘There was a certain ascetic, foremost knower of Brahman, on the bank of the Ganges…’” Thus the story flows, revealing the mysterious workings of karma, devotion, and the transformative power of sacred actions.