Within the vastness of pure consciousness lies creation itself; pure consciousness pervades all things, and in truth, all beings are nothing but pure consciousness. Indeed, everything—inside and outside, above and below, as the knower, the means, and the known—is pure consciousness alone. It assumes the role of the knower, ever peaceful, and by this unity, all existence remains perfectly balanced, transcending even the fourth state of consciousness. It is here that an ancient tale is recounted, the story of a great web of questions spoken by a demoness whose inquiry encompassed all things. On the northern side of the Himalayas, there lived a fierce demoness named Karkaṭī, reminiscent of the terrifying Sālabhañjikā who dwelt upon the sooty mountain. She was also known as Viṣūcikā—a maiden afflicted by the demands of justice, her body emaciated by the rigors of reasoning, much like the Vindhya forest. Her eyes blazed like great fires, her nostrils filled with smoke, and she was clad in dark blue garments, black as night, bound in a body shrouded in mist-like robes. Her headcloth was dense as a cloud, her breasts hung like rain-clouds, and she ever carried the banner of darkness. Her gaze was steady as lightning streaks, her eyes shining like stars among tamāla trees, her nails tipped like the edge of a cat’s-eye gem. She laughed, adorned with a garland of ashes. Karkaṭī was decorated with garlands of flowers fashioned from heaps of fleshless human bodies, and she shone with a necklace of corpses, fierce entrails strung upon every limb. Her earrings were dreadful skulls, agitated by the possession of spirits, and her mighty arms blazed like thunderclouds seized by the sun. Yet, despite her immense body, she suffered from scarcity of food; the fire in her belly was never satisfied, like a flame that cannot be quenched by a mere trace of water. This great-bellied one never attained satisfaction; restless as the tongue of the submarine fire, she began to reflect. “If I were to swallow all the people living on Jambudvīpa, my hunger would still not cease, just as the ocean never stops inhaling the rivers. My hunger is not appeased even by clouds or mirages; only that method is suitable which allows one to survive in adversity. Who can trouble all people equally, when they are protected by mantras, herbs, charity, austerity, worship of the gods, and the like, and are free from obstacles? I shall perform supreme austerity with an unwavering mind; for by the power of intense austerity, even what is difficult to obtain can be attained.” Driven by the hunger to consume all living beings, Karkaṭī sought a remote and forbidding place suitable for austerity. She climbed a peak, her eyes steady as lightning, her body dark as a mass of clouds, endowed with hands and feet. There, she stood firm, bathing in the sky and practicing austerity, standing on one foot, her eyes unmoving like the moon and sun. Days, fortnights, months, and seasons passed by, but she remained unmoved by cold or heat, like a rock that has been cut. Her form became like a garland of clouds, completely motionless, her hair rising upwards and dark, as if she were reaching up to seize the sky with her arms. The wind wore her skin thin, her body slack and swaying with the gusts that made her ornaments ring. Her hair stood up, shrouded in darkness, adorned with a stream of pearls. In this state, the Unborn One approached her. After a thousand years, the Grandfather, Brahma, came to her, for the accomplishment of severe austerity. Even fire fed with excrement is overcome by cold in such devotion. Karkaṭī bowed to him in her mind and stood there, saying, “So be it,” pondering, “What boon is sufficient to end hunger?” She requested, “Let me become both effortless and made of iron, the needle of life; by this request, becoming a twofold needle, I will enter unnoticed and vanish. Along with the breath, let me enter the heart of all beings, as fragrance does, and by this means, let me consume all people as I wish.” As she reflected, “Gradually, the destruction of hunger brings supreme happiness,” the lotus-born one, Brahma, spoke to her. She saw another vision, like a cloud of nectar. “Daughter Karkaṭikā, garland of the mountain of the demon clan,” Brahma said. “Arise, I am pleased with you; choose whatever boon you desire.” She replied, “Lord, master of past and future, may I become Jīvasūcikā. Let my boon be that I may be both effortless and made of iron, and may I have the power of choice.” Brahma granted her wish, saying, “So be it,” and spoke again. “In creation, you shall become Viṣūcikā, the needle-like one; with subtle illusion, you will cause harm to all the worlds. You will afflict those who eat poorly, undertake difficult actions, are foolish, unstable, dwell in bad places, or are reckless. Entering the heart with the life-breaths, piercing the spleen and other organs, you will become Viṣūcikā, a disease of wind in the form of a subtle line. You will approach people whether virtuous or not; but for the virtuous, I now declare this mantra for your treatment.” On the northern side of the Himalayas, there is a demoness named Karkati, also called Viṣūcikā; she is a maiden who obstructs what is right. Reciting this great mantra, place it in the left side of the belly; then, with that hand, gently stroke the patient, maintaining composure. Imagine that Karkati, shrieking harshly, is fleeing toward the Himalayas, crushed by the power of the mantra as if pounded to dust. Visualize the patient as situated in the moon, in a lake of elixir—ageless, deathless, liberated from all diseases and disturbances. Indeed, the practitioner, having become pure and inwardly calm, with focused mind, by this method gradually destroys all forms of Viṣūcikā. Thus, the Lord of the three worlds, moving through the sky, with the mantra perfected and received from the accomplished ones of the sky, honored by Indra and others, returned to his own imperishable, supreme, and radiant city.