Having acted wrongly, you must be corrected; otherwise, in anger, you will fall slain in battle as Indra once did. Hearing these stern words, Nandi, the devoted attendant, hurried to inform the Lord. With only a gesture of his brows, Nandi understood the will of the mighty wielder of the trident. After offering his respects, Nandi, chief of the Gaṇas, sent Rāhu. Rāhu then went to Jālandhara, recounting in detail the events concerning Svarbhānu and the enchanting form of Gaurī. At that time, Nārāyaṇa, the Lord, was clothed in matted bark garments, living as an ascetic. His second attendant approached him, carrying fruit in his hand. When the messenger of Kāma, whose eyes were gentle like a doe, saw them, she lamented her fate. Hearing her sorrow, both ascetics spoke kindly to her: “Do not be afraid, O auspicious one. We have come to protect you. How did you enter this dreadful forest, haunted by wicked beings?” Thus consoling the slender woman, Mādhava addressed the demon who held her: “Release this gentle-limbed, lovely-smiling woman from your vile conduct.” He rebuked the demon, “Hey, fool of evil ways, what are you intent on doing? Are you set on making all the eyes of the world your food?” Mādhava declared, “By the power of virtue, let this earth be rid of its adornment; today, let the world be without light, and let Kāma be stripped of pride.” He continued, “Now, by killing Vṛndā in the forest, you will act; therefore, quickly release this goddess of the palace of happiness.” Hearing Hari’s words, the demon replied angrily, “If you are capable, then today itself free her from my grasp!” As soon as Mādhava spoke, the demon, struck by his wrathful gaze, was reduced to ashes, leaving Vṛndā behind. Bewildered by the illusion of the Lord of the universe, Vṛndā asked, “Who are you, ocean of compassion, by whom I have been protected here?” She spoke gratefully, “My bodily and mental suffering, the burning pain of ascetics, has been taken away by your sweet words and by the destruction of the demon.” She resolved, “In your hermitage, gentle one, I will perform austerities, O treasure of penance.” The ascetic revealed himself: “I am the son of Bharadvāja, renowned as Devaśarman; abandoning all pleasures, I have come to this dreadful forest.” He explained, “With this boy-nosed one, my disciple, the lovers are here; there are also many others, my disciples, who can assume any form at will.” He invited her, “If you wish to perform austerities in my hermitage, O noble lady, then come, let us go to another forest, for this place is far from the king.” Having spoken thus to the royal wife, Hari headed east, while the king slowly entered a forest filled with ghosts and spirits. Vrindā, her eyes overflowing with tears, followed behind him, and the messenger of love called out, “Wait for me.” Meanwhile, a wicked person of sinful appearance spread a net in the forest, which soon became filled with living creatures. That leader of evildoers drew in the net and, having taken out the living beings caught within, released them. Seeing the two women, the hunter addressed the messenger of love: “Lady, let your companion come to me and take me by the hand.” Hearing this, Vrindā looked at him, whose face was deformed; shaken by fear, the beloved of Sindhu gazed at him. Distressed, Vrindā fled, shining, together with the messenger of love in the forest. Both ran together with her friend, reaching the hermitage of ascetics. There, in that forest, Vrindā saw something wonderful: birds with golden bodies, resounding with various sounds. She saw a pond rich with golden lotuses, its ground made of gold; rivers carried milk, and trees exuded honey. There were heaps of sugar and piles of sweets, all kinds of delicious foods, and many ornaments. Divine weapons flew through the sky; satisfied monkeys played, leaping up and down. In a beautiful monastery, Vrindā saw a sage seated on a tiger skin, radiating light throughout the three worlds. She pleaded, “Lord, protect, protect me from the adversary of sin—whether by austerity, righteousness, silence, or recitation.” She declared, “There is no greater merit than rescuing the fearful, O possessor of austerity,” trembling as she embraced the sage. Meanwhile, the wicked soul, the captor of all living beings, arrived. Vrindā, terrified, clung to Hari’s neck. She embraced him with her arms, feeling his pleasant touch, like a sorrowful vine entwined; and by this embrace, she would again be restored. The head, endowed with all limbs, surpassed her husband in virtues. Now, she was told, “Go, for the sake of your husband, to the splendid hall.” Thus instructed, she entered the splendid hall with the sage, and mounting the divine couch, she took her beloved’s head. She drank from his lips, her eyes closed in passionate longing. In that moment, the king assumed the form of Jalandhara—his appearance matched her beloved; his chest and stature were the same, his words and mind alike; thus he became the Lord of the world. Seeing her dear one with his body fully restored, she spoke, “I will do what pleases you, master. Tell me your wish and let me hear it.” Hearing Vrindā’s words, the one born from the ocean of illusion replied, “Listen, goddess, to how the battle between Shambhu and me took place.