She, who had shared your life in happiness and union, has now departed—never to return. Thus, to the grieving Niṣāda, the sage spoke gently: “Go now; why do you torment yourself so?” He reminded him, “Your sons must never be abandoned, not at any time.” Though his heart was heavy with grief and sorrow, the sage’s words were soft and compassionate. The Niṣāda, comforted by these sweet words, said, “O brāhmaṇa, your gentle speech has brought me solace.” Hearing this, the sage of firm vows addressed him further: “Do not weep. I say to you—may good be yours. She who was dear to you has become me.” Upon hearing the sage’s words, the Niṣāda’s distress eased, but confusion remained. He asked, “What is this you say, O brāhmaṇa? Your words are indistinct and strange to me.” Struck by the Niṣāda’s words, the brāhmaṇa himself fainted from sorrow. Regaining his composure, he urged, “Go quickly to your own place, taking your children with you.” Yet, the Niṣāda, still bewildered, could not understand. He questioned, “What evil deed did you commit in ancient times? By what fault have you come to be a woman, having formerly been a man?” Hearing these questions, the sage of firm vows replied, “Niṣāda, listen attentively as I recount my story. I practiced austerities: taking only one meal a day, avoiding forbidden foods, and performing many acts, all in hope of a divine vision. After a long time, I beheld Janārdana, Lord Viṣṇu himself. But since I sought no boon, I did not desire the blessing he offered. Then Viṣṇu spoke to me: ‘Having seen the illusion, enough, O twice-born.’ Again, he said, ‘Now you will see enough, O noble one.’ Under the sway of his māyā, I found myself on the banks of the Ganga. Following the sacred rite of bathing, I immersed myself in those pure waters. There, I was lost in bewilderment—unsure of what was happening or why I had entered the waters of Jahnavi. Niṣāda, see here the water pot, the mat, the cloth as before; the staff and cloth—whatever was not worn out—were carried away by the Ganga.” Having spoken thus, the Niṣāda vanished from sight. Afterwards, O Devi, that Brahmin certainly undertook further austerities. As he continued his practice, the afternoon arrived. Gathering flowers for his rites, he was filled with faith. Surrounded by eminent Brahmins, he performed ablutions in the Ganga. In the forenoon, he had placed his mat, water pot, and staff there. The other Brahmins asked, “What have you forgotten? Why have you not come quickly to this place?” Hearing their words, the sage sat in silence, pondering. Meanwhile, O goddess, the eminent Brahmin wondered, “How has so much time passed? What did the Brahmins say to me? How has this moment come to be?” He was bewildered. Seeing his confusion, I asked him, “What is this? You appear bewildered. What have you seen?” Thus addressed, he bowed his head to the ground and spoke, “Ah, O god, O twice-born, these Brahmins speak to me—O teacher of the world, you have arrived in the afternoon; what place have you forgotten?” He continued, “I became a hunter, and my wife was born in the hunter’s lineage. From her, three sons were born, and also three daughters.