On that splendid mountain dwelt that bird (Kakabhushundi), indestructible aeon. All the virtues and vices that are born of Maya (the cosmic illusion), together with ignorance and lust and other errors of judgement.

Which permeate the whole world, never touched the precincts of that mountain. Listen now, O Uma, with tender affection, while I explain how the crow passed his life there and worshipped Hari.

Beneath the pipala tree he practised meditation; beneath the pakara, prayer and sacrifice; in the shade of the mango he offered mental worship to the Lord, having no other occupation whatever save the worship of Hari;

Beneath the banyan he recited episodes from the story of Hari, which countless birds flocked to hear. With reverence and devotion and in varying wondrous ways he sang of the marvellous exploits of Rama.

All the pure-souled swans that ever dwell in that lake listened to the lay. When I arrived there and saw the spectacle, an intense joy welled up in my heart.

Then, assuming the form of a swan, I took up my abode there for some time, and after reverently listening to the story of Raghunatha’s virtues, returned to Kailasa.

I have thus told you, Girija, the whole story of the occasion on which I visited Kakabhushundi. Now listen to the circumstances under which Garuda, the glory of the feathered kingdom, called on the crow.