Alas, the shoulder-joint, once strong and upright, now lies fallen upon the earth, pressed down by the relentless force of time and ground away within the hollows of stone. The moon-like face, once radiant and enchanting, now glows dimly, its inner rays no longer shining forth in austerity, like the moon’s disc cooled after being scorched by the fires at the end of an age. The mighty hands, once powerful and capable, seem to have vanished altogether—what remains feels as feeble as a needle, easily shaken by the mere hoof of a fly. Those hands, once strong as thunderbolts and bringers of joy, shone like a splendid horse with hips broad as the Vindhya mountains, pure and flawless in their might. Now, where is that vast form, as expansive as the sky? What remains is a new, insignificant body, as slender as a thread passed through the eye of a needle. Where once was a mouth cavernous as a mountain cave, there is now only a tiny opening, and the act of eating, once a feast of flesh, has become the subtle swallowing of a mere drop of water. Thus, the drama of my own destruction is nothing but the result of my own actions. In this state, the needle, now endowed with the power of speech, reflected on her condition and resolved, “I shall become an ascetic once more, and by my effort, regain that former, powerful body.” With this thought, she withdrew her mind from all concerns of birth and death, and journeyed to the very peak of the Himalayas, steadfast in her resolve to undertake severe austerities. Perceiving her needle-form as a creation of her own mind, she, composed of vital air, entered a body that had lost its mind. Recognizing her needle-nature within herself, she—now made of mind, with a body of vital air—ascended to the summit of the Himalayas. There, in a place devoid of all living beings, on hard, rocky, uneven ground covered with dust and scorched by a fierce forest fire, she stood upright, alone, on the broad, grassless earth, appearing in the barren desert like a dry blade of grass. Relying only on one and a half toes of her subtle foot, she began her austerities, supported solely by her own awareness. With the tip of her subtle foot, she blocked even the narrowest dust of the earth, and, with great effort, stood upright, raising her foot with difficulty. Binding her foot amid the tightness of dust, sand, and pebbles, she endured darkness, nonviolence, sharpness, and a round mouth, subsisting on nothing but air. In the forest, she followed a restless snake, which had risen, swaying at the tip of its tail, to see far. The sun’s ray, emerging from the snake’s mouth, became her companion, resembling a needle itself, guarding only her rear. Even in something small that becomes one’s own, affection arises; so too did the sun’s ray, acting as a friend, become attached to its needle-like companion. Her second companion was a hermit woman, clear and pure, but by association, she herself became tainted, just as a needle becomes stained. Her face, wrinkled with a smile as the sun’s rays emerged from her tip, was later seen to be smiling only because of the dust that clung there. Even when obscured by dust, trees, creepers, and all who beheld her longed to look upon this ascetic needle. The winds disturbed her steadfast form with the sounds issuing from their mouths, filling her mouth as if saying, “We will be born, we will exist, and soon we will be swallowed by her—these pollen grains of flowers.” Yet, though the dust was driven by winds sent by the lord of ascetics, she did not swallow it, even when it seemed to enter her mouth. Her resolve was firm; for when there is inner strength, even the lightest things cannot prevail. She did not take in even the pollen that reached her mouth. The wind was astonished, even more so than at the thought of uprooting Mount Meru, for even when covered with mud and filled with great waters, she remained unmoved. Shaken by strong winds, frightened by lightning, tossed by clouds, and disturbed by the roar of thunder, she stood steady for a thousand years, unmoved as a stone slab, absorbed in meditation. When her outward movements had ceased and time had passed, she turned inward, contemplating her own true nature and consciousness. The light of knowledge arose within her, revealing all that is high and low. She became pure, a needle of consciousness, supremely purified. She became aware of all that is to be known through her own intellect, and when her misdeeds were exhausted through austerity, the needle pointed to her own essence. For thousands of years, she performed severe austerities, facing the seven great worlds and generating intense heat. By the fierceness of her penance, the mountain Himavat was set ablaze like the fire at the end of an age, and the world itself seemed to burn. Seeing the world overwhelmed by her austerity, Indra asked Narada whose penance this was, and Narada replied, “For seven thousand years, Sūcī, the long-enduring ascetic, has been known to me; because of her, this world is ablaze. Serpents hiss, mountains split, celestial beings fall, clouds and oceans depart; the directions, along with the sun, become parched and sullied—O Indra, see how austerity, through illusion, brings about destruction.” Having heard the entire account of Karkati and her bitter deeds, Indra, filled with curiosity, questioned Narada further: “O sage, by means of austerity, Karkati attained the state of the needle-demon; who were the beings she consumed in the womb of the Himalayas?” Narada replied: The vital needle, having become a demoness, entered the tender body of a parrot, using an iron needle, black in color, as her support. Abandoning that support, she, moving through the chariot of air and space, entered bodies through the path of the vital wind. Within all the channels, tendons, nerves, fat, and blood, she, with impure limbs, hid herself like a bird within crevices, unseen and insidious.