Let me tell you the secret by which Kokā is set apart. These are the Pāśupata rites, yet Kokā itself belongs to the Bhāgavata tradition. Once, a sacred rite was performed at the entrance to Kokā, within my own holy field, O beautiful one. There, in a small pond with little water, a fish dwelled; and from its mouth, a powerful fish swiftly emerged. As it fell, another seized it and leapt away in haste. By the power of that consecrated field, a prince was transformed and became a lord. In time, the wife of a hunter—a certain shrew, greedy for flesh and ever eager for meat from his hand—entered the story. The hunter, desiring her and the meat she sought, tried to seize her by force. O good lady, at that moment, she fell from the sky into Kokā, in my presence. There she grew up as a maiden, radiant in youth, beauty, and virtue. The prince, for his part, was handsome, virtuous, courageous, and steadfast in his pursuit of battle. Time passed in an age filled with joy, and so, in due course, the two met. He remained ever with her, and she, auspicious and blameless, with him. As the years flowed on, she continued to be faultless in her conduct—devoted, humble, and especially affectionate. There also stood the prince, the one who increased the glory of the Śakas. Many skilled physicians gathered to treat his persistent ailments, but none succeeded; much time passed, and their efforts were in vain. When the season had changed, the story of their lives and conduct became a matter of curiosity in the world. Then, she who was flawless in all her limbs addressed her husband: “Tell me truly, if I am indeed dear to you. You perform your duties faithfully, yet your suffering does not end. What is this, O gentle one? Have you forgotten yourself, though beset by every disease?” He replied, “One who has mounted the ocean of worldly existence should not be questioned too much by you.” Yet again, as the couple lay together on their bed, she said, “Tell me the very thing I asked you before. Is there something here that must be kept secret? Why do you hide it from me?” Thus pressed, the king of the Śakas was questioned. He answered, “Abandon your human disposition; remember your former lineage. Go to my mother and father, O fair-smiling one, and seek their favor. Having received their command and honored them as is proper, perhaps you will learn. For the account of one’s previous birth is difficult to obtain, even for the gods.” So, flawless in all her limbs, she went before her mother-in-law and father-in-law. “I wish to make something known; please listen attentively,” she said. “I desire to go to the sacred Kokāmukha; for that, I seek your guidance. Until today, I have never asked either of you for anything. Your son is always afflicted with pain in his head.