Listen now to the ancient, meritorious tale that once unfolded on Mount Malaya, concerning the son of the weaver—a story bound by the weight of previous practice and truth, as recounted by the wise. There lived a Brāhmaṇa known as the weaver, a man deeply devoted to austerity. His wife, the virtuous daughter of Vātsyāyana, was steadfast in her devotion to her husband. Yet, this weaver was a peculiar man: he spoke little, almost as if mute, and seemed to look upon the world as though blind. After some time, his wife, Sūrpākṣī, disturbed by his strange and silent ways, decided on the sixth day to leave him. Taking her own frail, emaciated child in her arms, she departed from their home and journeyed to the mountain called Śālodara, seeking sustenance. As she arrived, the sightless weaver asked her gently, “What have you brought, dear?” She replied, “I have brought the son of the basket-maker Brāhmaṇa, lord.” At this, the weaver grew concerned. “That foremost of Brāhmaṇas is a great knower; if angered, he will surely curse us. Quickly, bring the child of someone else, O beautiful one.” Swift as the wind, Sūrpākṣī leapt into the sky and, in a clear voice, called out, placing her thumb upon her face, “See for yourself, O best of sages: your son is making sound.” The basket-maker Brāhmaṇa, hearing her, beheld the child. Smiling, he turned to his beloved and said, “Someone handsome is present on earth to deceive us.” He then took the child and, after marking the earth with sacred grass and his own hand, bound the child. When Sūrpākṣī became invisible, the basket-maker threw the child far from the house onto the ground. Later, when the rākṣasī (demoness) came to seize her own son, she found herself unable to do so. She recounted all that had happened—the taking of the Brāhmaṇa’s son—to her husband. The rākṣasa’s child, O Brāhmaṇa, was also reported to his wife. The child was nourished with curd, milk, and sugarcane juice. His father gave names to the two children: Niśākara and Divākara. In due order, the Brāhmaṇa performed the rite of initiation for both. Yet, Niśākara, due to his dullness, could not recite as he should, and so it is remembered. Nevertheless, the people of Malaya did not reproach him for this. A great stone was placed as a cover above a well. One day, Niśākara’s mother came to that well, which was dark and filled with stones. She called out loudly, “By whom was this stone placed over the well?” Niśākara replied, “This stone was placed by my father above the well.” He added, “I am your son, known as Niśākara.” But his mother answered, “By the name Niśākara, I have no son at all.” Hearing this, tears welled in her eyes as she lifted the shining stone. She saw before her own son, matching her, and also her child. Then she recounted everything, including the actions of her own son, explaining all that had transpired. And thus, what had not been spoken before now became known, satisfying the great curiosity that had arisen.