Wise and free from desire, a certain householder lived simply, performing his duties in a modest dwelling. One day, without warning, he was struck by a most terrible fever. The pain was so great that he lost consciousness, lying senseless for a time. When awareness returned, he reflected on his condition: “Alas, I have fallen into distress, and my righteous son is far away. If only he were here—wise as he is, he would comfort me as my body burns with fever. But I have committed the grave sin of going where I should not, and I have not performed atonement. Perhaps there will be no good destination for me. My son will come, and to him I will give my wealth. Even what I have kept hidden at home, what I have not seen—I will give all of it to him.” While he was thus absorbed in troubled thoughts, a traveler happened to arrive, drenched and shivering from the rain, his body trembling with cold. Entering the house, the traveler saw the sage lying there and approached him with concern. Realizing he was a holy man, the traveler bowed in reverence and asked, “O sage, why are you asleep? The twilight hour has arrived. The sun is setting; this is not the time for sleep.” Hearing these words, the fevered man—whose name was Śarabha—summoned his strength and replied, “Hear my words, traveler, which I speak before you. May you, O virtuous one, act accordingly. I am a merchant named Śarabha, from Kānyakubja. Though forbidden by my wife, enemies, and sons, I came here, having heard from my son of the greatness of this holy place. Several months have passed since my arrival, and now, for three days, I have been suffering from fever. My very life-breath left me and has only today returned. O virtuous one, truly, how much of my lifespan remains? Having seen the house of Śamana, I returned here; by some stroke of fortune, you have come to me. Friend, take me to my house; I will give you much wealth when we reach my home—show me compassion, O ocean of mercy. Or, if you wish, dig up a piece of land here and take my wealth.” Hearing this, the greedy traveler, his mind set on gain, replied, “I will do as you have said.” He proceeded to dig up the wealth from the indicated spot and placed it before Śarabha. “This wealth, O lord of men, has been taken by me from your land. Give it quickly, so that I may bring a palanquin for you. Placing you, who are afflicted with fever, upon it, I will take you to your home.” Thus addressed, Śarabha gave him three gold coins. Taking this wealth, the traveler went to Lavaṇa City. After spending one night, he returned with a palanquin, its attendants, and bearers, and, after giving two gold coins, brought Śarabha’s son. The traveler, unrighteous in mind, took two coins for himself; placing Śarabha, the best of merchants, in the palanquin, he set out, urging the bearers quickly toward Kānyakubja. During the journey, at the holy place, the traveler took water from his water-pot and, giving a little at a time to the parched Śarabha, continued on. They stopped on the shore of a lake to eat. After bathing and taking food, they set out again in haste. As their thirst grew, they drank water from the water-pot and gave some to Śarabha as well. But as they journeyed through a lonely forest, a terrifying Rākṣasa named Vikaṭa, wandering in search of prey, saw them. Driven by hunger, his mouth agape, he rushed toward them, shaking the earth with the force of his stride. Swiftly, he seized the bearers and the traveler, snatching them up along with their belongings. Whirling them about, he dashed them to the ground, and by the violence of his attack, their lives departed. The Rākṣasa devoured their flesh and drank their blood. Seeing Śarabha, weak and ill, the demon mused, “Where will this sick man go, who is before me? I will eat him, and afterwards I will drink water.” Having resolved thus, he went to the riverbank with his water-pot. The Rākṣasa, foremost among night-wanderers, threw the water into his mouth. As soon as he drank, the memory of his former birth arose within him. He remembered that, by an act of killing in his previous life, he had been reborn as a Rākṣasa, though he had originally been a brāhmaṇa. The sin he had committed came back to him. Remembering this, he quickly approached Śarabha, regaining his knowledge, and spoke: “O tiger among men, who are you, and who are these people whom I, a vile Rākṣasa of terrible form, have devoured? Of which sacred ford is this water, by whose power even I, a sinner, have regained the memory of my former birth?” Śarabha replied, “I am a Vaiśya, O best of Rākṣasas; my home is in Kānyakubja. Traveling among holy places, I have now arrived at Indraprastha. There I became afflicted by fever, due to fate; then the thought arose in me to return home by an improper path. There, a certain traveler arrived, tormented by the rains. I requested him: ‘Bring a palanquin and take me home.