For those devoted to the path of austerity, when the destined time of death arrives, even having one’s head struck with a stone is regarded as a virtuous act—such is the measure of their resolve. There arises in the heart a yearning: “When will we reside in the lonely forest, surrounded by disciples deeply absorbed in recitation, softly chanting sacred words into the ear?” Yet, O sage, you are counseled not to embark further upon the path of liberation, for you have already attained exalted positions that yield repeated returns in worldly existence. Therefore, these positions must be renounced—our words are true. Through our own austerity and various disciplines, we must seek release. Go, then, to that supreme state, to the path of liberation, which the wise attain through devotion, penance, and the strength of their austerities. In that state, where the senses are restrained and compassion toward all beings is constant, there is found the true dharma of austerity; all else is but pretense. Knowing this, strive to reach the highest state, that which the makers of holy fords have attained, and which the yogis have reached. In this way, the gods of old, the Vidyadharas, and great serpents, day and night, contemplated their cherished desires, seeking fulfillment. If your longing for worldly existence has truly ceased, then abandon your spouses and all obstacles to the heavenly path. How can you serve the very womb in which your father was born? How can creatures eat flesh that is like their own? These questions pierce to the heart of renunciation. Then, all those mighty Dānavas approached their teacher and spoke: “Initiate us, O blessed one, for we stand here as embryos, ready to be reborn in knowledge.” The priest, having performed the proper rites, addressed them according to tradition: “You must never offer obeisance to any other gods at any time. When food is to be eaten, take it in a single place, with cupped hands; ensure the water is pure, free from hair and insects. Act equally toward what is dear and not dear, never showing partiality; take food in this manner, O lord, and practice accordingly. Remain together, all of you, and thus you will partake of liberation.” Having thus spoken and established these rules, the priest instructed those foremost among men. Then Dhiṣaṇa, O king, went to the world of the gods and reported all that the Dānavas had done. Meanwhile, the Asuras—except for Prahlāda—went to dwell by the sacred river Narmadā. The king of the gods, Indra, delighted, addressed Namuci, recounting the names of many fearsome Daityas: Hiraṇyākṣa, destroyer of sacrifice and slayer of dharma; Muci, Bāṇa, Virocana, Mahiṣākṣa, Bāṣkala, Pracaṇḍa, Caṇḍaka, Rocamāna, and the fierce Suṣeṇa, among others. Seeing these Daitya lords, Indra spoke: “O lords of the Daityas, you were born long ago and ruled the realm of the gods. How is it that you have now taken up this vow, which destroys the Vedas—standing here naked, shaven-headed, bearing water pots and peacock-feather banners?” The Daityas replied: “We have abandoned all demonic nature and abide in the dharma of sages. We perform deeds that increase righteousness among all beings. Enjoy, O Śakra, the sovereignty of the three worlds and depart.” Accepting their words, Maghavan (Indra) returned to the realm of the gods. Thus, O Bhīṣma, all the Daityas were deluded by the priest of the gods. Having reached the river Narmadā, the foremost of the Daityas stood there. Informed by Śukra of all that had transpired, they became aware of the truth. Then, intent once more on seizing the three worlds, they made a cruel resolve. At this point, Bhīṣma asked: “How was Arjuna, the slayer of enemy heroes, born from Tripura? And why is Karṇa, though called a sūta’s son, said to be born out of wedlock? How did these two obtain such boons by their very nature? Please tell me, for my curiosity is great, and you are worthy to speak of it.” Pulastya replied: “Once, when his mouth was cut, Brahmā was seized by great anger. Sweat arose on his forehead, which he took and struck upon the earth. From that sweat was born Kuṇḍalī, armed with bow and great arrows, a hero with a thousand armors, who asked, ‘What shall I do?’ The Creator pointed to mighty Rudra and said: ‘Let this evil-minded one be slain, so that he may not be born again.’ Hearing Brahmā’s command, Kuṇḍalī took up his bow, arrows in hand and fierce of gaze, and set out in pursuit of Maheśa (Rudra). Seeing this exceedingly terrible man, the three-eyed Lord (Rudra) was afraid and swiftly fled to Viṣṇu’s hermitage. ‘Save me, save me, O Viṣṇu, slayer of foes, from this man! Created by Brahmā, he is sinful, of mleccha form, and terrifying. O Lord of the world, act so that in his anger he does not kill me.’ Then Viṣṇu, with a mighty roar, bewildered that man. Invisible to all beings, the master of yoga, the all-seeing Lord Keśava, soothed the one with deformed eyes who had arrived there. When he bowed to the ground, he was seen by the god Viṣṇu. Viṣṇu spoke: ‘You are indeed my grandson, O Rudra. What boon shall I grant you?’ Rudra, beholding Nārāyaṇa, said, ‘Give me alms,’ and showed before him a skull blazing with fierce radiance. Seeing Rudra with a skull in his hand, Viṣṇu thought, ‘Who else would be worthy now to receive alms from me?