Once on a time, a Rishi name Sthulashiras was practising very severe austerities on the northern breasts of the mountains of Meru. While engaged in those austerities a pure breeze, full of all sorts of delicious perfumes, began to blow there and fan his body. Scorched as his body was by the very severe austerities he was practising, and living as he did upon air alone to the excusion of every sort of food, he became highly pleased at that delicious breeze which blew around him. While he was thus pleased with the delicious breeze that fanned him, the trees around him, showed their flowers for making a display and extorting his praise. Displeased at this conduct of the trees which has the outcome of jealousy, the Rishi cursed them, saying,-Henceforth, you shall not be able to put fourth your flowers at all times.