O night-wanderer, listen closely to the duties that befit each class of beings. The practices prescribed for Kṣatriyas are also those for all twice-born, maintaining the sacred order. But for the Śūdra, there is one supreme observance: the sacred duties of the householder, to be practiced especially at night. Should one neglect this, the radiant Sun himself becomes displeased. Yet, for those who faithfully observe their nightly duties, the Sun strives on their behalf. But if anyone abandons their proper role, the Sun’s anger is roused against them. With these thoughts weighing on his mind, the night-wanderer returned again and again to his own city, his heart constantly pondering the path of righteousness. Once there, he summoned all the Rākṣasas and addressed them with words filled with virtue: “Practice charity, compassion, forbearance, celibacy, and humility. Good conduct alone leads to the attainment of the next world. Therefore, I command all of you—let these be observed without exception.” Joyfully, the Rākṣasas established this thirteenfold dharma, their hearts uplifted. They prospered, blessed with sons, grandsons, and ever accompanied by their wives. Yet, a curious event unfolded: the Sun could no longer rise; nor could the stars, nor the Moon. By day, the Sun shone with the gentle coolness of the Moon, and by night, the Moon blazed with the brilliance of the Sun. The people believed that the Moon’s radiance surpassed all, and at night, desiring to share their glory, they blossomed forth with light. But this reversal was not without consequence. The crows, knowing the new order, would kill the Kauśikas by day. At night, believing it was day, the Kauśikas would remain submerged up to their necks, their minds fixed in devotion, loudly proclaiming their faith throughout the day. Life was abandoned in emptiness, with cries on the riverbanks, and the world was afflicted by a light that never set. In her grief for her husband, a devoted woman performed severe austerities. Because of her intense penance, the Moon came to overcome the Sun, which now did not set as before. Even at night, people performed sacred rites—some for the Sun, some for the Moon, others for Brahma, and yet others for Hara. If the night was made delightful and ever luminous by the Moon’s light, the deities were worshipped with pure flowers and genuine fragrances. Among the vows, the second—called ‘Unempty Bed’—was said to grant all desires, remaining ever full of joy and undiminished in its power. Witnessing the fierce austerity performed with the desire to worship Rudra, the satisfied Shambhu freely bestowed a boon upon the devoted woman. Because of her vow, the Moon’s form in the sky remained unbroken, its beauty unmarred. Having worshipped the two feet of Vishnu, whose splendor is immeasurable, the devotee shone by day, radiant like the Sun, bringing joy to all. Now, the Sun, defeated by the Moon, no longer shone as before. The lotuses opened, heralding the sunrise, and thus it was known that the Moon had risen and was radiant. Perplexed, one thought, “What is this? Truly, the world speaks of auspicious and inauspicious things.” All around, the world—the three realms themselves—had been engulfed by the deeds of the night-wanderers, and so the tale of their curious reign over day and night was told.