Nārada spoke: When the king had finished speaking, the foremost among brāhmaṇas—renowned for his eloquence and virtue—addressed the king with complete honesty. He said, “O King, I am but a beggar. I possess neither secret mantras nor medicines. Yet, in your city, all the women lack self-control. “O King, simply by seeing my form and hearing the sound of my singing, the women of your city are overwhelmed by passion, unable to restrain themselves. What am I to do, great King? Wherein lies my fault, O Lord? I have not violated any established command or law, O ruler of the earth.” As the brāhmaṇa thus spoke, all the citizens gathered before the king and voiced their distress: “O King, this brāhmaṇa has enchanted the women of our city! They no longer stay in their homes, and we cannot restrain them. If this enchanter of women remains here, O Lord, then today we will leave for other lands. Our divine bull—the source of our sacrificial rites—has departed from us. “Just as the goddess Gaurī abandons the fields of the wicked, so too, without the bull as refuge, those bereft of prosperity have left, O King. As cows follow their bull, so too will our perfumed wives follow this brāhmaṇa. How can prosperity remain in an empty house, however hard we try? Dharma, wealth, and the household—all three are under the sway of women. Since dharma and wealth depend upon the beloved, when they are lost, nothing remains.” While the citizens lamented thus, their wives also gathered and sat before the king, speaking among themselves: “O Lord of the day, upon seeing this beautiful brāhmaṇa, our minds blossom like lotuses in water. Without him, our hearts wither like lotuses deprived of the moon. Let us go together and seize him before the king. “He cannot be harmed, nor can we. What can the king do?” So saying, those eager women seized the best of brāhmaṇas in full view of their husbands and the king, declaring to him, “O lord of our hearts, come to our homes and relieve our longing. Satisfy us quickly, for without you we cannot remain.” Hearing these words, the brāhmaṇa replied, “I am a son to you all, and you are mothers to me. Why do you abandon your homes and wander about? Worship your own husbands; by doing so, you will attain both worlds. When husbands are worshipped, Viṣṇu, Lord of all gods, is pleased. And when He is pleased, what is unattainable here? But a woman who abandons her husband and seeks pleasure elsewhere incurs blame and meets a terrible fate. As long as she deceives her husband, she dwells in suffering until the end of the age. “Afterwards, she is reborn as an immobile being; from that, after many births, she is born as an animal. Then, released from that, she takes a deformed human birth. Knowing the course of sin, turn back from it, people. Otherwise, at the end of your lives, you will go to a most dreadful hell. If you seek happiness from me, you will not find it here—only sin and downfall await.” Nārada continued: Hearing the brāhmaṇa’s words and seeing the happiness return to their husbands, the chief women bowed their heads in shame, like creepers bent by the wind. The fierce fire of their passion was extinguished by the cool water of the sage’s teachings. Rising, they reproached the god of love, whose power bewilders even Brahmā, Indra, and other gods. They said, “Shame on this wicked one—the axe that fells the tree of virtue—by whom the god of love, beloved of those with beautiful eyes, was slain for their pleasure. What shall we say of Rukmiṇī, revered by the world, who bore in her womb that Rahu named Pradyumna, devourer of women’s virtue? If that lowest of the gods comes within our sight, we shall again cast him into the fire of our gaze, O Lord of meditation. “By whom was this sinful one begotten? By Viṣṇu, delighting in himself, who made him fond of sixteen thousand women. What more need be said of us?” Thus reviling the god of love, they praised that best of brāhmaṇas, by whom their own virtue and that of all women was protected. “Blessed is the mother of that noble brāhmaṇa, who brought forth the conqueror of love and protector of others’ virtue. Shame on us, laughed at by the royal people, conquered by the god of love, by whom great sin was wrought in word and mind.” Thus reflecting, all those countless women, instructed by the brāhmaṇa’s words, returned to their homes. The king of Kāmpilya, honoring the brāhmaṇa with garments and ornaments, sent him to a noble house where he lived in self-control. In due course, the mighty lord of Kārūṣa came and besieged the city of Kāmpilya with his army. A terrible battle ensued; in that fight the king was slain, the city was plundered, and all its heroes were killed. The women, in their grief, consumed deadly poison and met their end, without performing any atonement for their sin. By that sin, all those terrifying, great-bodied, fearsome rākṣasīs were born in the city of the dreadful-named rākṣasa. There, all those women were confined by Hanuman, the noble one of the city, while the victorious one, delighting in sacrifices, remained in his bannered chariot.