Once, near the radiant golden mountain, we found ourselves at the hermitage of the great sage Durvāsas. There, with voices raised in devotion, we engaged in intense austerities, seeking to worship Lord Shiva. Though we were disciplined and possessed wisdom aligned with truth, pride crept into our hearts. We became arrogant, drawn by our deep affection for that sacred place and dazzled by its extraordinary splendor. Amidst this, I was utterly enchanted by the remarkable fragrance of the flowers that grew there. Drawn by their scent, I found myself seated at the root of the Śāṇḍilya tree, resting upon a tiger skin. It was then that Durvāsas’ lips began to quiver with agitation, his entire being overwhelmed by indignation. His anger flared; his body radiated fierce heat, his form tense and burning like fire. With a thunderous voice, he rebuked us, "Ah! You two are wicked, your conduct has fallen. Who are you to display such excessive arrogance? This is my hermitage, a sacred abode, purifying and holy, where beings seek refuge. This forest is the alternate dwelling of those who are enemies of the city. By polluting it with your footsteps, this one has become a sinner. Without permission, he entered this exceedingly fierce and precipitous cave, driven by greed for the fragrance of flowers, reaching the very essence of scent." Struck down by the sage’s wrath, which fell upon us like a thunderbolt in the form of a curse, we were left devastated. Yet, with hands joined in reverence, we addressed the great sage, our minds utterly dejected. Seeing our sorrow, Durvāsas spoke with compassion, "Do not be so disheartened, O you two, whose minds have strayed." He then recounted a tale from long ago: "Once, the enemy of the city presided over an auspicious assembly. At that time, for the lord of the gods, the deities of the Nandana forest, Gajānana and Ṣaḍānana—overcome by childhood curiosity—were eager for fruit. The god addressed his two sons, saying, 'This entire earth, encircled by the world and the netherworld...' When the lord of Pārvatī had spoken thus, his face shone with a gentle smile. Then Lambodara, the son of the god whose form is like the crimson mountain, demonstrated his cleverness. Seeing this, Triyambaka addressed Heramba, 'From this day forth, you are the chief among all fruits.' He then spoke to all the gods and asuras gathered in the hall, 'This form of mine is immovable, like the crimson mountain, due to his devotion. Whoever, in circumambulating this mountain, feels pain in his foot...' Thus, by the command of Śambhu, the circumambulation of the crimson mountain was established. You two as well, adorned with the pride that comes from me, have been instructed by me. Even if your circumambulation of Aruṇādri is done in secret, it will succeed." In this way, the curse of the great sage—whose anger had dried his body with the poison of the ocean—was lifted. O foremost of kings, as a result, you attained the state of being an animal fit for riding, while I, through the birth of my own limb, took the form of a musk deer. Now, O righteous one, you have come here under the pretext of hunting. Because of the fault incurred in mounting the steed, you experienced this condition. Yet, O king, because of your connection, I am released from the bondage of animal birth. Having spoken thus, he who bears the crescent moon wished to return to his own divine abode. And so, by the grace and power of Śaṃkara of the crimson mountain, both of us were freed from the effects of the sage’s wrath.