He gazed all around—sideways, above, and below—his tawny matted locks carefully bound, as if by some deliberate hand. Then a woman, auspicious in form, approached and asked, “By whom have you been bound, child? Tell me, O sinner.” The bound one replied, “Though I am so wickedly bound in these matted locks, I live by the power of austerity. There is a heap of austerity here; my father is Ṛtadhvaja. Born among a host of bees, he is expert in all scriptures. He is known as Jābāli; listen to this, O beautiful-faced one.” He continued, “For ten thousand years you will practice austerity in Sumāra. As a child, you will endure firm bondage for five hundred years. In youth, you will enjoy supreme pleasures for two thousand years. You will obtain a bed upon the earth and food made from wild grains. I wander upon the earth, going to bathe in the Hiraṇvatī. Taking this divine one, who was foolishly placed in the great hermitage, bound at the tip of the banyan tree, even with matted locks, O lovely one. With creeper ropes and a great device below, by one of wicked mind—a device made of creepers was placed at the mouths of all directions. O auspicious one, I have told you what I have seen, just as it appeared to me. O woman of graceful limbs, tell me for what purpose you have come here.” She answered, “My name is Nandayantī, born from the womb of Pramlocā. She will become the queen of the king—of this there is no doubt. Śivā and Aśivanirghoṣā—then the sage spoke further.” Having spoken these wondrous words, the sage departed. From the bank of the Hiraṇvatī river, the monkey-chariot then took flight to the holy place. By her, I was brought to this region, devoid of people. The beautiful one said to me, “Go to Śrīkaṇṭha on the bank of the Yamunā. Present yourself to him; there you will attain the highest good.” For the sake of deliverance, she came to the Yamunā river from the mountain. She arrived at the place of Śaṅkara, where the ascetic comes. After offering her respects, she saw those imperishable ones, the great sages. She wrote down another verse of her own, spoken in her childhood. Having reached this state, she thought, “May some lord save me.” She saw the excellent hermitage, resounding with the cries of intoxicated cuckoos. Thus reflecting, she entered the great hermitage. Her mouth was parched, her eyes unsteady—she was like a withered lotus. Thinking, “Who is this?” she rose and stood up. Then the two questioned each other and began to speak. As they sat, they conversed with various kinds of stories, attentively. That best of sages, knower of truth, observed the letters. After entering meditation for a moment, the ascetic understood. He quickly went to Ayodhya to see the lord of the Ikshvakus.