From that time onward, the prince’s strength waned, growing weaker with each passing day. Troubled by his decline and compelled by a deep yearning, he journeyed to the hermitage of the sage Vāmadeva. There, he bowed repeatedly before the sage and began to question him with humility and urgency: “O Lord, by what sin is my body wasting away, day and night?” Vāmadeva looked upon him with compassion and replied, “You have eaten chickens.” The sage then instructed, “Go to him for refuge; he will show you the way.” Heeding these words, the prince sought out Tāmracūḍa. Upon seeing the sage, the prince joined his palms in reverence and devotion, confessing, “O Lord, the chickens were eaten out of ignorance, only for the sake of nourishment.” Tāmracūḍa, moved by the prince’s sincerity, said, “Since you ask, O king… The king, the wielder of the rod, is the ruler, teacher, and protector of the worlds. Therefore, my daughter, he is not seen, having taken on an animal form.” Hearing these words, the great-souled Gālava was approached by a devoted woman who asked, “How may the curse come to an end?” Gālava, perceiving the truth through deep meditation, replied, “In the forest of Mahākāla stands a liṅga known as ‘Liberator from the bird womb.’ By merely seeing it, the curse will be lifted.” With gratitude, she bowed to the foremost sage and departed swiftly. Her eyes, now blooming with hope, met those of her beloved, whose gaze was restless with anticipation. At that very moment, the king addressed her, she whose eyes were gentle like those of a deer. She replied, “O great king, today I will go with you.” Filled with joy at her words, the king hastened their journey. Together, they arrived and worshipped the liṅga called ‘Liberator from the bird womb.’ That night, for the first time, the rooster—symbol of the curse—did not appear as it always had. Overcome by beauty and the incomparable radiance of his beloved, the king marveled, wondering, “What is this power by which I am freed from a curse so difficult to cross?” Eager for understanding, he questioned his beloved, whose face shone like the full moon. With joy, she recounted the entire story in detail: “O king, you are freed from the curse by the power of this liṅga.” With her at his side, the king ascended to heaven, praised by the hosts of gods. It was declared, “O goddess, this liṅga is renowned in the world as the bestower of all desired fruits. None who revere it will fall into animal wombs, nor will they suffer separation. Neither will they attain hell, nor experience suffering, old age, or fear. In every age, they will be endowed with beauty and good fortune. Whatever ancestors are in their lineage—even those dwelling in hell, those who have entered the animal realm, or been born as beasts—by merely seeing this liṅga, the animal birth will no longer be theirs.” Such is the power of this sacred place. Once, in a great age, there was a king who embodied Dharma, so radiant that even Soma, Surya, and the other gods were dimmed by his brilliance. He could assume any form at will and was undefeated in battle. His chief queen was dearer to him than his own life. Among a thousand kings, he stood unrivaled, yet his mind was filled with wonder at the eminent sage Vashishtha. He approached the sage and asked, “O Lord, by what Dharma did I obtain my unsurpassed fortune?” Vashishtha replied, “Formerly, you were a king, born from the Shudra caste. You lived for many years with an evil heart, always stealing from Brahmins and constantly reviling the Vedas. When your end came, you attained hell in due time.” Thus, the story reveals the power of merit, the consequences of actions, and the boundless grace that can lift even the heaviest curse.