Once, there was a man who, through association with outlaws, became much like an outlaw himself. Yet his life took a turn when he came under the guidance of the great sage Durvasa, who imparted to him profound teachings. Thus instructed, the man shone with newfound wisdom. On the bank of a holy river stood a divine rock known as Citraśilā, O Earth. There, the sage Satyatapa, renowned for his intense austerity, stood performing penance with unwavering resolve. In the course of his penance, Satyatapa cut off his own left index finger. Strangely, no blood, flesh, or marrow was seen at the site of the severed finger—a testament to the extraordinary power of his penance. Nearby, under the shade of an auspicious banyan tree, a pair of celestial kinnaras was present. At dawn, bathed in the clear light, it is remembered that these kinnaras reached the world of Indra. Upon their arrival, they were asked, “Tell us something wonderful and unprecedented that you have witnessed.” Standing before the assembly, the kinnaras recounted what they had seen, speaking of Satyatapa’s marvels to all present. “On the bank of the river Puṣyabhadrā,” they said, “a great and excellent wonder has occurred.” They described all they had heard and seen, including the miraculous flow of ashes from the sage’s penance. Inspired by these accounts, someone called out, “Come, O Vishnu, let us go to the excellent side of Himavat.” Thus addressed, Vishnu assumed the form of a mighty boar and stood visible before the assembled sages. Meanwhile, Indra, armed with bow and sharp arrows, was present in the forest. “O Lord, here you have been seen as a great and mighty boar,” one declared. Hearing these words, the sage began to reflect deeply. He worried, “Otherwise, my household will surely perish from hunger—there is no doubt.” The boar, wounded by a spear, had come to his hermitage, and the sage was torn, unable to decide what to do. After a moment, a thought arose in him; his eyes searched among living beings, his tongue wished to speak, and he longed for what had been released. Yet, in the presence of the Lord of gods himself, the sage realized, “There is no greater boon on earth than that I have seen you, O Lord, before me.” He then prayed, “And let liberation be my second boon—may I attain release.” At this, the god became invisible and departed, though his presence lingered in that sacred place. As long as the great sage remained in that auspicious spot, his purpose was fulfilled. Thereafter, he journeyed around the earth, visiting holy places. He performed the sacred rites: washing the feet, sipping water, and giving cows in charity, before finally taking his seat. One day, the Lord spoke to him, who stood humbly with joined palms, “My son, you have succeeded through your austerity; you have become one with Brahman, O virtuous one. Now, the time for your liberation, together with your very self, has come. Having gone there, there is no further birth—of this, there is no doubt.” Meditating upon Lord Nārāyaṇa, both the sage and his companion dissolved into that divine body. It is said that whoever hears or causes this tale to be heard attains the state they desire. Now, hear of the greatness of the sesame-cow: That very Māyā, emerging from the body of Brahmā, the one born from the unmanifest, herself became the goddess Nandā, wishing to accomplish the work of the gods. O Lord, explain to me the Vaiṣṇava meaning of this: How is it so, that the goddess Gaṅgā, beloved of Śaṅkara, is for the welfare of the world? Sometimes, something may be given; the all-knowing one knows his own place. Then, the one called Mahiṣa, the great demon, was slain by him. Or, that power of knowledge is Mahiṣa, embodied as ignorance.