After Śivā and Aśivanirghoṣā had listened intently, the sage spoke further, his words full of wonder and wisdom. Having finished his discourse, the sage quietly departed, leaving behind a sense of awe. From the banks of the sacred Hiraṇvatī river, a chariot drawn by monkeys rose into the air, journeying toward a holy place. It was Śivā herself who conveyed me to this secluded region, empty of people and shrouded in silence. There, the beautiful Śivā spoke gently, instructing me, “Go to Śrīkaṇṭha, who dwells on the bank of the Yamunā. Present yourself before him; there, you shall attain the highest good.” With this purpose, she descended from the mountains to the Yamunā river, seeking deliverance. She arrived at the sacred place of Śaṅkara, where ascetics gather in pursuit of truth. After offering her respects, she gazed upon the imperishable ones—the great sages. In that moment, she composed another verse, recalling words she had spoken in her childhood. Feeling the weight of her journey and her circumstances, she thought, “May some lord come to save me.” As she wandered, she came upon an excellent hermitage, its air vibrant with the calls of intoxicated cuckoos. Pondering her next steps, she entered the great hermitage. Weary from her travels, her mouth parched and her eyes unsteady, she resembled a withered lotus. Suddenly, someone within the hermitage noticed her and wondered, “Who is this?” Rising, they stood before her. Thus, the two began to question each other and converse. Seated together, they shared many stories, listening to one another with full attention. Among them was a sage, a knower of truth, who carefully examined the letters she had written. Entering a brief meditation, the ascetic gained understanding of her situation. Without delay, he journeyed to Ayodhya to see the great king, lord of the Ikshvaku line. Approaching the king, the sage said, “Hear, O tiger among men, my request. A monkey has appeared within your domains. There is one named Shakuni, O king of kings, accomplished in the science of weapons.” The sage explained that he had instructed his dear son Shakuni, born in the line of ascetics, and together they traveled to the place of captivity. There, they found the sage’s son bound atop a tree. His matted hair was tied, and he was fastened to a banyan tree. Swiftly, Shakuni, strong-armed and skilled, used his arrows to cut the bonds that held the sage’s son. It was only after five hundred years had passed that these bonds could be severed by arrows. Seeing his father arrive, Jābāli, though still restrained, approached as best he could. The sage embraced his son and affectionately smelled his head in relief. Shakuni, having accomplished his task, quickly set aside his bow and arrows. The best of monkeys, who had witnessed all, could not keep the event hidden. At that moment, a great bird descended together with the supreme sage. With swift precision, Shakuni cut the branch into three pieces using crescent-shaped arrows, creating a path. By this path of arrows, Jābāli was able to descend safely from the tree. Joined by Jābāli, the bearer of burdens, they made their way to the river born of the Sun. Soon, they gathered at the place of Hara, Śrīkaṇṭha, the foremost among yogis. After Ṛtadhvaja had taken his leave, all present enjoyed pure and unblemished association. There, they were instructed to bathe Śrīkaṇṭha according to sacred rites and to worship him day and night, honoring the divine presence among them.