May this account bring great benefit to all those who possess devotion and faith. Let its blessings correspond to the austerity and sincerity of those who worship, enduring for as long as the moon and stars shine in the worlds. From this day forward, may the divine presence be bestowed here for the prosperity of all creation. Let these sacred beings forever reside at the Aruṇa-kshetra, and you too, O compassionate goddess Aruṇā, remain here, filled with grace. In this holy Aruṇa-kshetra, all attainments are easily gained. It was here that the daughter of the mountain king performed the act of pleasing the Lord of Śoṇa-giri. As I reflect, I am delighted by you, and by the nectar-like greatness of the Lord of Śoṇa. Tell me, how did Vajrāṅgada, the king of the Pāṇḍyas, cross over the Śoṇa? And how did the two radiant lords of the Vidyādharas, adorned with garlands, accomplish the same? If your devotion to the Lord of beings is steadfast, I shall recount the tale of Vajrāṅgada, and also the deeds of the knower of knowledge. Once, there was a king among the Pāṇḍyas named Vajrāṅgada. He was righteous, learned in justice, profound, generous, and patient. Devoted to the worship and service of Śiva, he was prosperous and foremost among the virtuous. One day, under the pretext of hunting, he rode out on a fine horse. He saw a musk deer, exuding a strong fragrance, and pursued it as it ran toward the Śoṇa mountain. The king’s bow broke, and exhausted from wandering, he pressed on, afflicted by an unknown cause, as if tormented by an elephant. He wondered, "What is this causeless turmoil of my mind?" Troubled and unable to discern the reason, he observed two beings who had abandoned their animal bodies. They wore crowns and earrings, adorned with necklaces and armlets, and spoke to the king, whose mind was filled with wonder. "O king," they said, "do not grieve; this is due to the power of the lord of Śoṇa mountain." Somewhat reassured, the king asked, "Who are you two, by whom such an encounter has happened to me?" At his question, Kalādhara replied, "Know, O king, that we were once lords among the Vidyādharas. Once, beside the golden mountain, at the hermitage of the sage Durvāsas, we loudly performed austerities there to worship Shiva. Though disciplined, we became arrogant, despite possessing wisdom suited to truth. Our affection for that place and excessive pride in its splendor led us astray. I, in particular, was utterly captivated by the extraordinary fragrance of the flowers. Then, seated at the root of the Śāṇḍilya tree upon a tiger skin, the sage Durvāsas became intensely agitated, his lips quivering with indignation. Enraged, his body radiated fierce heat, his form tense and burning. He exclaimed, 'Ah! You two are wicked, your conduct fallen. Who are you, so excessively arrogant? This is my hermitage, a sacred place, the abode of beings, purifying and holy.