In ancient times, a question arose concerning flaws—those in chastity, flaws in the recitation of sacred texts, or flaws in the performance of sacrifice. When the earth deities declared, “It is flawless,” the best among the twice-born approached the eminent one and spoke in this manner. They then narrated to him, just as it had happened, the matter concerning themselves. The learned ones spoke of the Dharma-śāstras, prescribing the proper course of action. Whether one was eighty years old or a boy not yet sixteen, they carefully considered the place, time, age, capacity, and the nature of the sin involved. With this discernment, they donned deer skins and undertook sacred vows, following the prescribed path. After a year had passed, King Vīradhanvan, along with his companions, lived at the foot of a certain tree, subsisting as deer did, in accordance with their vows. There, the king approached a great sage and confessed, “O great sage, the sin of killing a Brahmin has come upon me.” Overwhelmed by intense sorrow, the king wept, afflicted by the weight of his guilt. The sage comforted him, saying, “Do not fear, O king; I shall remove your sin. Uplifted by the god of gods, Viṣṇu, who bears the form of a boar, that god Janārdana himself will surely deliver you.” Yet, the king, distressed and impatient, spoke harshly: “What is the use of this twice-born, who is powerless and wicked?” In his agitation, he struck the sage with his sword. In that very forest, O goddess, the king, deluded by a multitude of sins, wandered—afflicted by hunger, tormented by thirst, driven by childishness, delusion, and recklessness. Burdened by accumulated sin, he wandered through the dense forest, which was filled with tigers, lions, elephants, and frequented by deer and antelope. The hunters who witnessed these events quickly went to report to their master. At that moment, from the king’s body, adorned with white ornaments, a goddess appeared. She slew the bandits and vanished there itself. Released by her, the king awoke at that very instant. Reflecting in the forest, he realized, “Here, the killing of cows and the killing of Brahmins are truly dreadful.” He sighed again and again, weighed down by remorse. It was in this state that the sage Vāmadeva saw the king, who, though born of the lunar dynasty, had come to a wretched condition. The sage resolved, “I shall rescue this king, the foremost among men,” and addressed the suffering ruler Vīradhanvan: “O king, lord of the earth, renowned as Vīradhanvan, in a previous birth, as a hunter, you killed deer in the forest. On the auspicious Ekādaśī of the bright half of the month Phālguna, you once witnessed, with wonder, the worship performed by people. By the power of that act, you became a king of great strength and valor. All your enemies were slain by her alone; you will obtain auspiciousness. I have understood this through the power of asceticism and the strength of yoga. Now I will protect you; listen to my supreme words.” Thus addressed by the sage Vāmadeva, the king humbly asked, “How will the sins arising from the killing of cows and Brahmins depart from me?” Thus, the tale of King Vīradhanvan’s sorrow, redemption, and the wisdom of the sage unfolds, echoing the eternal teachings of Sanātana Dharma.