Remembering her calf, who was tied up in the cowshed, the mother cow stood drinking her milk, her heart full of longing. Among foolish beings, some worship their beloved deity only in memory, just as the mother cow remembered her calf. At this moment, Kapila, the mother cow, spoke: “O tiger, I do not cry out of fear for my own life. My sorrow comes because my little one has not yet eaten his grass; this alone pains me deeply. “I wish to see my young son drink, to see my own people and question them. You speak of his return, but I cannot believe it. You speak to me in this way out of fear, for there is no fear greater than the fear for one’s life. If you have faith in me, O lord of beasts, release me. Then, having gained certainty, I shall return—or perhaps I will not. But if I do not return, let me be stained by that sin. “The sin that falls upon those who betray or rob their teacher, the sin of killing a Brahmin or a cow, the sin of betraying a friend or deceiving a teacher, the sin of touching a cow, a Brahmin, or fire with one’s foot, the sin of destroying wells, gardens, or ponds, the sin of ingratitude, and the sin that afflicts an informer, the sin of those addicted to wine and meat, the sin of slandering kings, the sin of selling the Veda, the sin of preventing gifts to the twice-born, the sin of killing the trusting, the sin of hating the twice-born, the sin of delighting in slander, the sin of eating curds and fried grain at night while engaged in wicked acts, the sin of eating brinjal, radish, or white and red garlic—let all these sins be mine if I do not return as promised.” Hearing her words and convinced of her sincerity, the tiger replied, “Let it not be thought that I have been deceived by you. Go, Kapila, devoted mother, and see your son.” With the tiger’s permission, Kapila went to her home. There, she saw her mother, her brother, her friends, and her relatives. Her face was wet with tears, and sorrow weighed heavily upon her as she set out toward Gokula. Trembling and agitated by fear, overwhelmed by a sea of grief, she hurried again and again until she finally reached her own Gokula. Hearing her voice, her calf recognized his mother. But her arrival at this unusual hour was fierce and alarming. The calf asked her, “Mother, why have you come at such a strange time?” She replied, “My dear one, I have come out of affection for you. Fulfill your desire as you wish. This meeting with your mother is rare and will not happen again. I must give my life to the tiger, the king of beasts who can take any form. Today, I must go to him. Indeed, to die today with you is praiseworthy for me, without a doubt. Even if I must die alone, I will do so, for I cannot live without you.