In the unfolding of destiny, the daughter of the demon Kandaramālin was destined to appear. Alongside her, there was Vedavatī, the auspicious daughter of Parjanya. At the sacred place called Hāṭaka, O Mahādeva, a union would be attained. Soon after, Vedavatī journeyed swiftly to the holy region where the seven Godāvarī rivers flowed, a place sanctified by the presence of sages. There, she settled herself in deep meditation, her heart devoted to purity, sustaining her body only with fruits and roots. Longing for her beloved, she recited a single verse from the great legend, her voice imbued with yearning. It was said: whoever, by their own strength, could dispel the sorrow of this deer-eyed lady—one who remembered the sacred river Payoṣṇī, revered by sages, and her wide, expressive eyes—would be truly blessed. As she sat immersed in remembrance of Suratha, the heroic one, a great span of time quietly passed by. Meanwhile, Suratha, impelled by the workings of fate, fell from the lofty peak of Mount Meru down to the earth. On that foremost mountain, Śākveya made his dwelling, and many years slipped away in the solitude of the forest. Eventually, Suratha, having found Vedavatī, approached the renowned Devavatī. In this time, the foremost of monkeys beheld a child and gently took the infant into his hands. Upon seeing a cave, anger flared within him; he raised his sword and rushed forward, determined and fierce. In the same way, accompanied by the charming-limbed one, he journeyed on until they reached the heights of Himāchala. Not far from Vedavatī, there stood a dense hermitage, now abandoned by the sages who once dwelled there. In reverence, she bowed down in the sacred waters of the Kālindī river, even as the watchful Dānava observed her from afar. The mighty one then departed to Pātāla, his own netherworldly abode. Soon, he was brought to a land called Śivīti, a place filled with virtuous and noble people. Moved by a desire to continue, the mighty one traveled to where Sulocanā had been placed. Wishing to leave, the monkey, now accompanied by his gladdening daughter, set out on their journey. Reflecting on these events, it was said, “Thus my effort has been in vain, arising from my immersion in the waters.” Out of fear, Vedavatī plunged into the river Hiraṇvatī. Overwhelmed by sorrow and grief, the mighty one retreated to Mount Añjana, where he dwelled for many years in solitude. Vedavatī herself was brought to the highly sacred land of Kośala, a realm filled with the virtuous. Her body became covered with tender sprouts, resembling the Lord adorned with matted hair. Seated upon a stone slab, she suddenly heard a mysterious voice. The voice spoke: “Just as your son is bound to the foot of the banyan tree…” Hearing this, she looked all around—sideways, above, and below. There she saw him: with tawny matted locks, the child was carefully bound. With concern, she asked, “By whom have you been bound, child? Tell me, O sinner.” The bound one replied, “I live by the power of austerity, though I am so wickedly bound in these matted locks. Here, in this place, lies a great heap of austerity. My father is Ṛtadhvaja, born among a host of bees and expert in all the scriptures. He is known as Jābāli; listen well, O beautiful-faced one. “For ten thousand years, you will practice austerity in Sumāra. As a child, you will endure firm bondage for five hundred years. In your youth, you will enjoy supreme pleasures for two thousand years.” Thus, the destinies of these blessed souls unfolded, each step guided by fate, austerity, and the silent workings of time.