You shall find rest upon the earth, and your sustenance will be the wild grains that nature offers. As for me, I wander this world, journeying often to bathe in the sacred waters of the Hiraṇvatī river. There, I encountered a divine being, one who had been unwisely left within a great hermitage. This one had been bound at the top of a banyan tree, her hair matted, her form adorned by nature itself, O lovely one. She was tied with ropes made of creepers, bound with a cunning device at the base—such was the work of a wicked mind. In fact, this device of creepers was set at every direction, as if to prevent any escape. O auspicious lady, I have recounted to you exactly what I witnessed, holding nothing back. Now, O woman of graceful limbs, tell me: for what purpose have you come to this place? She replied, "My name is Nandayantī. I am born from the womb of Pramlocā. It is destined that she will become the queen of the king—there can be no doubt in this. Śivā and Aśivanirghoṣā—" and thus the sage continued his narration. Having spoken these wondrous words, the sage took his leave. From the banks of the Hiraṇvatī, a monkey-chariot soared into the sky, carrying him to a holy place. It was she who brought me to this remote region, empty of human presence. The beautiful one then said to me, 'Go to Śrīkaṇṭha, who resides on the bank of the Yamunā. Present yourself to him; there you will attain the highest good.' Thus, for the sake of deliverance, she journeyed from the mountains to the river Yamunā. She arrived at the sacred place of Śaṅkara, where ascetics gather. After offering her respects, she beheld the imperishable ones—the great sages. There, she inscribed another verse of her own, recalling words spoken in her childhood. Having reached such a state, she thought, 'May some lord save me.' She gazed upon an excellent hermitage, filled with the sweet calls of intoxicated cuckoos. With these reflections, she entered the great hermitage. Her lips were parched, her eyes unsteady—she resembled a withered lotus. Wondering, 'Who is this?' she rose and stood. The two of them questioned one another and began to converse. As they sat together, they shared many stories, listening with care and attention. The best among sages, a true knower of reality, examined the letters she had written. After a brief meditation, the ascetic understood their meaning. Without delay, he journeyed to Ayodhya, seeking an audience with the lord of the Ikshvakus. He addressed the king, "Hear me, O tiger among men, I have a request. A monkey has appeared within your domains, O king. There is one named Shakuni, O king of kings, who is skilled in the science of weapons. Shakuni, born in the line of ascetics, was instructed by his father in these skills." Together with the great sage, Shakuni made his way to the place of captivity. There, he saw the sage’s son bound atop a banyan tree. The boy’s matted hair was tied, and he was fastened high in the branches. That protector, swift and skilled, cut through the bonds of the sage’s son with his arrows. It was only after five hundred years had passed that he was able to accomplish this with arrows. Seeing his father arrive, Jabali, though still restrained, approached him.