The hunter, humbled and eager, stood before the sage and said, “This alone is the boon I desire—that you speak to me, O twice-born one. What need have I for any other blessing? Please instruct me.” The sage replied with gentle warmth, “In the past, my son, you sought me out for penance, though you were weighed down by many sins and bore a fearsome appearance. Yet now, O sinless one, your sins have been washed away—by your ablutions in the holy river Devikā, by your long association with me, and by simply hearing the name of Viṣṇu. At this very moment, you are purified in body, without a doubt. “Now, in my presence, accept one boon: perform penance, O virtuous soul, for as long as you desire.” The hunter bowed his head and asked, “This Viṣṇu, Nārāyaṇa, the Lord, whom you have spoken of—how is he attained by mortals? This alone is the boon I wish for.” The sage answered, “If a person undertakes even a small vow for Acyuta, the Supreme, he will surely attain Him, provided he is filled with devotion. Therefore, my son, you should follow this vow: do not eat food in a group, and never speak falsehood anywhere. This vow I prescribe for you, O best of hunters. Remain here, devoted to penance, as long as you wish.” Śrī Varāha then explained: Thus, the Brahmin sage, reflecting carefully, became a bestower of boons. Realizing the hunter sought liberation, the sage departed, having cleverly guided him. The excellent hunter, choosing the auspicious and beautiful path shown to him, performed penance without food, always remembering his teacher in his mind. When the time came for alms, he ate only dried leaves. Once, tormented by hunger, he took shelter at the root of a tree. As he reached for a leaf to eat, a bodiless voice resounded from the sky, “Do not eat the leaf that is crooked!” Obeying, he left it and picked another fallen leaf from a different tree, but again the voice forbade him. Thus, considering all the leaves unfit, the hunter ate nothing at all. Fasting, he continued his austerities, remembering his teacher without fatigue. After a long period, the great sage Durvāsas, his mind disciplined, arrived and saw the hunter with only a little life remaining, yet blazing with the energy of his penance, like an offering burning in the fire. The hunter bowed his head to the sage and said, “O Lord, I am fulfilled by your sight.” He continued, “Now the time for the śrāddha has come for me—please understand this. Eating only dry leaves, O great sage, I wish to honor you with these.” Durvāsas, seeing the hunter pure in body and mind, self-controlled, and wishing to test the power of his austerity, spoke aloud, “Give me well-prepared food of barley, wheat, and rice, for I have come here hungry, seeking you.” Hearing this, the hunter fell into deep thought and worry: “How can I possibly provide such food?” As he pondered, a pure golden vessel, radiant and endowed with success, fell from the sky into his hands. Taking it, trembling, he said to Durvāsas, “Please remain here, O brahmin, while I go to seek alms. Grant me this favor, O knower of Brahman.” Having spoken thus, the best of hunters went not far to a city filled with wealth and beautiful women. As he arrived, all the most beautiful women emerged from the trees, golden vessels in hand, and quickly filled his vessel with various foods. Realizing his purpose was accomplished, he returned to the hermitage and found the sage, the best among those who recite prayers. He placed the alms in a pure place, his mind serene, and, bowing to the sage, said, “O Lord, let your feet be washed, O foremost of sages. If I am worthy of your grace, please allow me to do this.” The sage, still wishing to test the power of his austerity, replied, “I cannot go to the river, nor do I have a vessel for water.” The hunter, hearing this, became absorbed in thought: “How can I quickly wash his feet? What shall I do, and how will he eat?” Remembering his teacher, the wise hunter took refuge in the river Devikā. He prayed, “I am a hunter, a sinner, a slayer of brahmins, O holy river; yet, remembering you, O goddess, protect me who has come for refuge. I do not know the deity, nor the mantra, nor the proper worship; I simply meditate on the feet of my teacher, O auspicious one, and see them always. O best of rivers, have compassion on me, who am thus; quickly bring water here for the sage to wash.” Hearing his heartfelt plea, the sin-destroying Devikā herself came to the place where Durvāsas was staying. The river goddess, becoming a swift current, washed the sage’s feet and flowed near the hunter’s hermitage. Witnessing this great wonder, Durvāsas was amazed. After washing his hands and feet, he ate with supreme delight, having sipped water, his heart full of devotion. To the emaciated and weakened hunter, Durvāsas said, “Let the study of the Vedas—all the Vedas with their branches, the knowledge of Brahman, and the Purāṇas—become directly manifest to you.” Thus, Durvāsas granted him this boon and declared, “You will become the sage named Satyatapas, foremost among ascetics.” Receiving the boon, the hunter humbly asked the eminent sage, “How, being a hunter, can I teach the Vedas, O Brāhmaṇa?