Once, the vital needle encircled the iron needle on all sides, embracing it as a fierce demoness might entwine herself around a shimshapa tree, or as a gentle breeze might coil around a garland, gathering its fragrance. From that moment onward, O Indra, this needle, steadfast in her long and arduous austerity, withdrew to another forest, where she remained for many years, immersed in penance. It was said that for such a noble purpose, one should strive skillfully in their duties, for the ascetic power amassed over countless years is potent enough to burn the entire world. When Indra heard these words from the sage Narada, he listened carefully and, with keen perception, sent the wind to the ten directions to observe the needle’s austerities. In harmony with the wind, Indra himself hastened along the sky-path, eager to witness the scene. The wind, swift and all-pervading, perceived her without obstacle, just as the supreme consciousness perceives all things. At the farthest edge of the earth’s seven oceans, upon a vast plain girded by the mighty Lokāloka mountain belt and adorned with all manner of precious stones, the wind spied her. He beheld the ring of the sweet-water ocean and its mountain ranges, the circle of the Pushkara continent and the mountains within. He saw the wine ocean, teeming with its unique creatures, the shore of the Gomeda continent, and its central realm. He gazed upon the moat of the sugar-water ocean, with its inner mountain clusters, the eastern plateau of the Krauncha continent, and the sequence of mountains within. He saw the ocean of milk, with its central lord, surrounded by the Śveta island and its elemental companions. He observed the earth girdled by clarified butter, containing celestial abodes, the vastness of Kuśa island as its radius, and immense mountain caverns. He saw the ocean of curds, with moving cities within, shaped like the eastern part of Śāka island and containing its own inner realms. And finally, he beheld the ocean of brine, with its cities and mountains, and the great Meru of Jambudvīpa, crowded with its family of mountains. Buffeted by the winds, all things were set in motion, and so, carried along by that force, the wind continued his journey, gradually making his way to the end. Thus, as he observed Jambudvīpa, he reached the summit of the Himalayas, where Sūcī, the ascetic needle, was deep in her penance. On that lofty, formidable peak, he found her—this forest-dweller—spread out in the second sky, untouched by the actions of living beings. So close to the sun was she that no grass could grow there; only dust pervaded the place, as if it were the very construction of saṃsāra itself. She had reached a state like a river of mirage, filled as though with ocean waters, resembling Indra’s bow, appearing as a stream of illusion. The edges of this realm were boundless, even to the eyes of the world’s guardians; it was but a whirl of dust stirred by the wind’s movement. Smeared with saffron rays of the sun and adorned with sandalwood-like beams of the moon, Sūcī shone like a celestial maiden, singing in the sky, cooled by the passing wind. The wind, weary from his long journey, wandered the earth, marked by its seven continents and oceans, and finally settled upon the summit of the greatest mountain, his immense form filling the endless directions like a swarm of bees gathering in the sky. There, atop the lofty peak in the heart of the great forest, he saw at its center a needle-like form rising, as if crowned with a tuft. Practicing austerity on a single foot, enduring the searing heat for ages, always fasting, she had become utterly dry—her skin and belly shriveled into a single lump. With her mouth wide open, she would inhale the wind and then release it, never letting it depart from her heart, repeating this without ceasing. Dried out, battered by the fierce rays of the sun, worn by the forest winds, unmoving from her place, she was bathed by the moon’s beams. Her mind, once established by a single atom of passion and perceiving fulfillment, would not allow another to take its place, just as one offers water in the wilderness, or as hair grows wild after a long time, or as breath rests atop the head like tangled locks. Astonished by the sight of the needle, the wind bowed before her, observing her conduct with a mixture of awe and fear. “O great ascetic needle, for what purpose do you perform such austerity?” he wished to ask, but found himself unable to speak, overcome by the radiance of her energy. Marveling at the wonder of her severe penance, the wind could think of nothing else and departed into the sky. He leapt over the path of clouds, soared beyond the currents of wind, left the hosts of siddhas below, and approached the path of the sun. Rising higher from his wanderings, he finally reached the inner city of Indra. There, Purandara embraced him, honoring the merit gained by witnessing the needle’s austerity. When questioned, the wind began to recount all he had seen to Sahadeva’s retinue and to Indra, lord of the celestial abode. “In Jambudvīpa, there is a great mountain named Himavat, lofty and vast, whose son-in-law is the blessed one who bears the crescent moon. On its northern high peak dwells a most beautiful ascetic woman named Sūcī, engaged in the most severe austerities. Why speak at length? To overcome hunger caused by wind and such, she has closed the cavity of her stomach, compressing it tightly. To calm the contractions and for warmth, she opens her mouth and, by inhaling dust particles, blocks the cold wind and hunger. Through her intense austerity, she has abandoned the nature of cold and taken on the nature of fire, becoming difficult even for the gods to approach. Therefore, let us all quickly go to the grandsire, for know that her severe austerity is for the sake of a boon, which may bring misfortune.