Though the Brahmin was approached and addressed by the hunter, he chose not to reply, for he considered the hunter to be a slayer of Brahmins and a doer of wicked deeds. Yet, undeterred by this silence and still yearning for righteousness, the hunter remained there. Meanwhile, the Brahmin, after bathing in the river, sought shelter at the root of a tree. After some time had passed, a tiger, driven by hunger, came to the river, its mind set on killing the peaceful Brahmin. As the tiger tried to seize the Brahmin who was still in the water, the hunter acted swiftly—he struck the beast with his arrow, and the tiger was instantly deprived of life. At that very moment, a man emerged from the body of the slain tiger. The Brahmin, who was still submerged in the water, heard the tumult caused by these events and, with a loud voice, uttered, “Obeisance to Nārāyaṇa!” The mantra, resounding in the air, was also heard by the tiger in the final moments as its life lingered in its throat. Simply by hearing these sacred words, the tiger’s soul became purified and auspicious. Then, the spirit of the tiger spoke: “I now go to that place where Viṣṇu, the Eternal, resides. By your grace, O best of Brahmins, I am freed from sin and suffering.” The Brahmin, astonished, asked, “Who are you, O best of men?” The soul replied, “In a former birth, I was a mighty king, renowned as Dīrghabāhu, well-versed in all duties. I knew the Vedas, understood what was auspicious and inauspicious, and had no quarrel with Brahmins—what could I gain from them?” “But,” he continued, “as I spoke thus, all the Brahmins, filled with anger, pronounced a terrible curse upon me: ‘You shall become a fierce tiger! Because you have insulted the Brahmins, let this truth be fulfilled; deluded at the time of death, you shall become so by Keśava’s will.’ Thus, I was cursed by those Brahmins, masters of the Vedas, and received the complete curse of Brahmā from them.” He went on, “Later, those Brahmins, bowing to the great sage, spoke to me for the sake of granting some favor: ‘Whoever stands before you at the sixth meal-time, O lowest of men, that one will become your food for a certain time. When, having been struck by an arrow, with life lingering in your throat, you hear from the mouth of a Brahmin the words “Obeisance to Nārāyaṇa,” then you will attain heaven—of this there is no doubt. Even if Viṣṇu’s name is heard from another’s mouth, O best of beings, for one who has incurred the Brahmins’ wrath, it is manifest. Whoever, honoring Brahmins, utters “Salutations to Hari” with his own mouth and departs this life, is freed from sin and attains liberation. This is truth, indeed, again and again, truth—raising my arm, I declare: Brahmins who move about are gods; the Supreme Person is unchanging.’” Having spoken thus, the king, now freed from all faults, ascended to heaven. The Brahmin, steadfast as ever, then turned to the hunter and addressed him: “Because you protected me when the king of beasts sought to seize me, I am pleased with you, O virtuous one. Ask for a boon; I will grant it.” The hunter replied, “This alone is the boon for me—that you speak to me, O twice-born; what need have I for any other boon? Please instruct me.” The sage said, “Formerly, O son, you sought me for penance, though you bore many sins and had a terrible form, O sinless one. Now, your sins have been destroyed by bathing in the Devikā river, by seeing me for a long time, and by hearing the name of Viṣṇu. You are purified in body at this very moment—there is no doubt.” “Now, in my presence, accept one boon: perform penance, O virtuous one, for as long as you desire.” The hunter, eager for spiritual knowledge, asked, “This Viṣṇu, Nārāyaṇa, the Lord, whom you have spoken of—how is he attained by mortals? This alone is my boon.” The sage replied, “If a person undertakes a vow for Acyuta, however small, he attains the Supreme, being endowed with devotion. Thus, O son, you should practice this vow: do not eat food from a group, and never speak falsehood anywhere. This vow I prescribe for you, O best of hunters; here, engaged in penance, remain as long as you wish.” Śrī Varāha then said: Thus, the Brahmin, pondering deeply, became a giver of boons; realizing that the hunter sought liberation, the sage departed, having guided him wisely. The excellent hunter, taking up the auspicious and beautiful path shown to him, performed penance without food, always remembering his teacher in his heart. When the time for alms arrived, he ate only dried leaves. Once, afflicted by hunger, he took shelter at the root of a tree and, wishing to eat a leaf from a nearby tree, was about to do so when a bodiless voice spoke from the sky, “Do not eat the leaf that is crooked.” Obeying, he left it and took another fallen leaf from a different tree, but again the voice forbade him in the same way. Considering all the leaves crooked, the hunter ate nothing at all. Fasting, he continued his austerities, never growing weary, always remembering his teacher. After a long time had passed, the great sage Durvāsas—his mind disciplined—came to him. The sage saw the hunter, with only a little life remaining, blazing with the energy born of his penance, like an offering in the sacred fire. The hunter, bowing his head to the great sage, said, “O Lord, I am fulfilled by your sight. Now the time for the śrāddha has come for me—please understand this. Eating only dry leaves, O great sage, I seek to please you with these.” Durvāsas, perceiving his purity, his pure mind and self-control, decided to test the extent of his austerity. He spoke aloud, “Give me well-prepared food of barley, wheat, and rice, for I have come here hungry, seeking you.