The cow stood before the tiger, her mouth wide open and fangs bared, a terrifying sight. Yet, even as the tiger waited, the cow’s calf—swift and alert, his tail raised high—came running to his mother’s side. The calf stood before her, and together they faced the king of beasts. Seeing her son arrive, the cow felt as though death itself stood before her. Gathering her courage, the cow spoke to the tiger: “O king of beasts, I have returned, steadfast in truth and righteousness. Fulfill your desire now—satisfy yourself with my flesh, nourish your kind, and drink my blood. Once I am dead, O sir, you may then eat this calf.” The tiger, moved by her words, replied, “Welcome, O virtuous cow, speaker of truth. For those devoted to truth, nothing inauspicious ever befalls them. What you promised before, you have fulfilled by returning to me.” The tiger continued, “I am curious how you could return, for I sent you away only to test your truthfulness. Otherwise, how could anyone depart alive after meeting me? My curiosity was stirred in search of truth. Therefore, by this truth, you are now released by me. You are as my sister, and your son is my nephew, O auspicious one. Though I am sinful in deed, you have instructed me, and worlds are established in truth, righteousness is upheld by truth.” He praised her further: “By truth, the cow gives forth her stream of milk, the beloved offering. Blessed is the cowherd who lives by your milk. Fortunate are the lands where your grass grows, and blessed are those who benefit from your presence. Those who drink your milk attain the very essence of life. Filled with conviction and wonder, I see that this is the command of the gods, the truth of the cows. Witnessing such truth, I have no more desire to live as I have before.” The tiger then confessed, “Therefore, I shall perform an act to free myself from sin. I have taken countless lives. Desiring the right path, I depart, having seen truth in the cow. I am sinful, cruel, a destroyer of life. To which worlds shall I go after such terrible deeds? I will visit holy places and seek purification. I will climb a mountain and cast myself down, or enter fire. O cow, what austerity should I perform today to cleanse myself of sin? Instruct me briefly, for there is no time for lengthy explanation.” The cow replied, “In the Krita age, austerity is praised; in the Treta, knowledge alone; in the Dvapara, sacrifice is declared; in the Kali age, charity alone. Of all forms of charity, the greatest is this: there is no gift higher than granting fearlessness to all beings. Whoever gives fearlessness to all creatures—moving and unmoving—is freed from all fears and attains the supreme Brahman. There is no charity nor austerity equal to nonviolence. Just as all footprints are swallowed by the elephant’s, so are all dharmas absorbed in nonviolence. The shade of the tree of yoga destroys the threefold suffering; its flowers are knowledge of dharma, and its fruits are heaven and liberation. For one scorched by suffering, the shade of the yoga tree brings relief; attaining supreme nirvana, he is no longer afflicted. Thus, the highest good has been briefly described to you. You understand, yet you continue to question me.” The tiger then revealed, “I was once cursed by a deer to exist as a tiger, and by killing creatures, I lost all memory. Through your company and instruction, my memory has returned. By this truth, you too will attain the highest path. Yet, I have one more question that has weighed on my heart for nearly a hundred years. By your fortune, at some time in heaven, the foundation of dharma was established through the virtuous. What is your name, O blessed one? Tell me, for I am ignorant.” The cow replied, “My master called me Nanda. Now you say, ‘I will eat Nanda’—why did you stand thus?” At the mention of her name, the curse on the tiger was broken and vanished. He regained his former strength and kingship. Meanwhile, Dharma, knowing the cow’s truthfulness, appeared before her and said, “Encouraged by your truthfulness, I, Dharma, have come. Nandā, choose a boon; whatever supreme blessing you desire, ask for it.” Nandā, the cow, replied, “By your grace, may I attain the highest state, and may this sacred ford become auspicious, granting righteousness to sages. And may this river, by my name, be known as Nandā Sarasvatī. By granting this, O Lord of gods, you have fulfilled my desire.” At that very moment, the goddess Nandā departed to the auspicious abode of the truthful, and Prabhañjana—the tiger—regained his former kingdom. Because Nandā attained heaven and became the river Nandā Sarasvatī, she is thus called by the wise. Sarasvatī herself then departed from the forest called Kharjūra and, flowing southward, flooded the earth, blessing all with her sacred waters.