If your devotion to the Lord of all beings remains steadfast, listen as I recount the tale of Vajrāṅgada and the deeds of those who possess true knowledge. Once there lived a king among the Pāṇḍyas, named Vajrāṅgada. He was a man of righteousness, deeply learned in justice, profound in thought, generous, and patient in all his dealings. His heart was dedicated to the worship and service of Śiva, and he enjoyed prosperity, standing out as the best among the virtuous. One day, under the pretext of hunting, Vajrāṅgada rode out on a fine horse. As he wandered, he spotted a musk deer, its fragrance strong and alluring. Driven by the hunt, he pursued the deer, which fled toward the Śoṇa mountain. But during the chase, the king’s bow broke, and he became exhausted from wandering. He was afflicted, for reasons unknown, as though tormented by an elephant, and wondered to himself, “What is this causeless turmoil of my mind?” Troubled and unable to discern the cause, Vajrāṅgada looked around and saw two beings who had cast aside their animal bodies. They wore crowns and earrings, adorned with necklaces and armlets, their appearance radiant and regal. As the king gazed at them, his mind was captivated by wonder. The two addressed him, saying, “O king, do not grieve. It is due to the power of the lord of Śoṇa mountain.” Reassured by their words, Vajrāṅgada spoke, “Who are you two, by whom such an encounter has happened to me?” When he asked this, 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, as a means of worshipping 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, especially, was utterly captivated by the extraordinary fragrance of those flowers. Then, seated at the root of the Śāṇḍilya tree upon a tiger skin, Durvāsas’ lips quivered with intense agitation, overwhelmed by indignation. He became enraged, his body radiating fierce heat, his form tense and burning. He cried out, ‘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. This forest is the alternate residence of the enemies of the city. By polluting it with your footsteps, this one is a sinner. Without permission, he entered this exceedingly fierce, precipitous cave; driven by greed for the fragrance of flowers, he has reached the essence of scent.’ Thus, struck down by his fierce wrath like a thunderbolt of curse, we addressed that god, our hands joined in reverence. Seeing us with minds utterly dejected, O king, he spoke, ‘Do not be so, O you two, whose minds are misguided.’ Long ago, indeed, the enemy of the city presided over an auspicious assembly.