With deep humility and gratitude, Śarabha, a merchant from the city of Kānyakubja, addressed the virtuous one before him. He spoke of his fortune in meeting such a worthy soul, and introduced himself by name and lineage. “Though my wife, my sons, and even my enemies all forbade me,” Śarabha confessed, “I was drawn here after hearing from my son of the greatness of this holy place.” He explained that he had now spent many months at this sacred site, but for the past three days, he had been suffering from a burning fever. In his distress, he recounted how his very life-breath had left him and then, by some miracle, returned. With anxiety in his voice, he asked, “O virtuous one, truly, how much of my lifespan remains?” Śarabha continued, describing how, after seeing the house of Śamana, he had somehow returned, and by fate or fortune, the virtuous one had come to him at that very moment. With desperation and hope mingling in his words, he pleaded, “Friend, take me to my house. I will give you much wealth, and when we reach my home, I will reward you greatly—show me compassion, O ocean of mercy. Or, if you wish, dig up a piece of land here and take my wealth now.” Upon hearing this, a villager named Śivaśarma, whose heart was clouded by greed, agreed eagerly. He said, “I will do as you have said,” and immediately dug up the treasure from the indicated spot, placing it before Śarabha. The traveler then declared, “O lord of men, I have taken this wealth 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.” Śivaśarma, thus addressed, handed over three gold coins. Taking this payment and his father’s wealth, the man set out for Lavaṇa City. After spending one night, he returned with a palanquin, attendants, and bearers, and for two more gold coins, brought his son along. The greedy man took his payment, and placing Śarabha, the best of merchants, in the palanquin, set out swiftly toward Kānyakubja, urging the bearers onward. As they journeyed, the traveler, seeing Śarabha parched with thirst, gave him water from his pot, a little at a time. Their path led them to the shore of a lake, where they stopped to eat. After bathing and refreshing themselves, they quickly set out again, quenching their thirst from the water-pot as they traveled. Śarabha, still weak and feverish, was given water as well. But fate had a darker turn in store. In the lonely forest, a terrifying Rākṣasa named Vikaṭa, driven by hunger, spied them. With a roar that shook the earth, he rushed at the group, mouth agape. In a flash, he seized the bearers and the traveler, spinning them through the air with such force that their lives were snuffed out. He dashed their bodies to the ground, devoured their flesh, and drank their blood. Turning his gaze to the ailing Śarabha, the Rākṣasa wondered aloud, “Where will this sick man go, who is before me? I will eat him, and afterwards I will drink water.” With this intent, he went to the riverbank, his water-pot in hand. But as the Rākṣasa, foremost among night-wanderers, drank the water, a strange thing occurred. The moment the water touched his lips, the memory of his former birth arose within him. He recalled the act of killing a deer and the sin that had caused him to be reborn as a Rākṣasa, even though he had once been born a brāhmaṇa. Remorse and knowledge flooded back to him, and he quickly approached Śarabha, addressing him with new humility. “O tiger among men,” the Rākṣasa asked, “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, from Kānyakubja. I have been traveling among holy places and have now arrived at Indraprastha. There, afflicted by fever and fate, I wished to return home by an improper path. A traveler, tormented by the rains, arrived, and I requested him to bring a palanquin and take me home. That traveler quickly brought a palanquin, set me upon it, and set out for my house. But now, he and the bearers have been devoured by you.” He continued, “As for this water, listen: in Indra’s Khāṇḍava forest flows the excellent river Yamunā. On its bank is Hariprastha, the most excellent of holy places, where lies the sacred ford of the teacher of the gods, capable of granting all aims. By drinking that water, your memory arose, awakening the Vedas within you. All this I have told you, as you asked.” Śarabha then asked, “Now I ask you—tell me, O night-wanderer: do you remember the deeds of your former birth? What sin did you commit that you were born as a Rākṣasa?” The Rākṣasa replied with sorrow, “Formerly I was a brāhmaṇa, born in a virtuous family of Veda-knowers. But I was of evil conduct and unrighteous—listen, I will tell you everything. I always played at dice with those skilled in it, losing much wealth of my own and even my father’s. My father, unable to bear my actions, reported me to the king through certain people, and I was expelled from the city, penniless, forced to dwell on the outskirts of the village.” “There, I had a friend named Devaka, an excellent brāhmaṇa, who protected me in his house and showed me great kindness for a long time. Living there happily, I was overcome by desire and, in a moment of terrible weakness, I violated his beautiful wife by force when my friend was away.” Thus, the Rākṣasa revealed the dark deeds of his past, explaining the cause of his present suffering and transformation.