After speaking with the king, the doe told him, “By conversing with her, you will return to your natural state as a cow.” Having uttered these words, the doe departed from her life before the king. At once, the king’s form became fierce and terrifying; seized by rage, he turned upon his own army and devoured them in his fury. The surviving soldiers, shaken and deeply distressed by what they had witnessed, hurried to the crossroads and three-way junctions to spread news of the dreadful events. The king’s son, a man of great valor, heard these reports. In the passage of time, within that royal lineage, an event unfolded. A certain cow, having strayed from her herd in search of fresh grass, wandered alone. This cow, O king, was known for always grazing on blades of grass with unbroken tips. As she grazed, a tiger with a mouth fierce and bristling with fangs approached her. The cow, remembering her calf, who was tied in the cowshed and drinking milk, was filled with anxiety. Just as some among the foolish worship their beloved deity only in memory, she was lost in thoughts of her child. Kapila, the cow, spoke to the tiger: “O tiger, out of fear for my life I do not cry at all. My sorrow is not for myself—it is because my calf has not yet eaten the grass. This is what distresses me.” She continued, “Let me first make my young son drink, and see and question my own people. You speak of his return, but I do not believe it. You say these things to me out of fear; yet, there is no fear greater than the fear for one’s own life. If you have faith, O lord of beasts, release me. Then, having gained certainty, I will return to you—or perhaps not. But if I do not return, I will be tainted by a great sin.” The cow went on to describe the gravity of such a sin, comparing it to the sins of betraying or robbing one’s teacher, killing a Brahmin, or killing a cow. She spoke of the sin incurred by betraying a friend, deceiving a teacher, or even touching a cow, Brahmin, or fire with one’s foot. She listed the sins of destroying wells, gardens, or ponds, of being ungrateful, or acting as an informer. She mentioned the sins of those addicted to wine and meat, those who slander kings, those who sell the Veda, or prevent gifts from being given to the twice-born. She spoke of the sin declared for those who kill the trusting, who hate the twice-born, or who delight in slandering others. She even mentioned the sins of those who, though engaged in sinful acts, eat curds and fried grain at night, or who eat brinjal, radish, or white and red garlic. When she had finished, the tiger, having gained certainty and understanding, spoke these words: “Let it not be thought that I have deceived her. Go, Kapila, and see your son, O mother so devoted to her child.” Kapila the cow, her face streaming with tears and her heart distressed, went to see her mother, brother, friends, and relatives. With sorrow weighing upon her, she set out toward Gokula.