Along the banks of a river adorned with golden sandbars, where chakravaka birds gathered and waters flowed, mingling flowers and foam, a wondrous scene unfolded. The river teemed with hosts of kinnaras, and was frequented by elephants and bears. Its shores resounded with the auspicious recitation of sacred texts, and the banks were beautified by the presence of intoxicated elephants, tigers, and mighty serpents. On one such shore stood the splendid hermitage of the venerable and great-souled sage Kashyapa, attended by groups of wise and learned sages. When the king beheld this hermitage nestled beside the river, he resolved to enter and pay his respects. The place was further adorned by the island of Malini, with its delightful banks, and shone with the radiance of Nara and Narayana, resembling the sacred Ganga itself. The king, a bull among men, entered the vast forest, which echoed with the cries of intoxicated peacocks, and approached a place reminiscent of the celestial Chaitraratha. Possessing great qualities and indescribable brilliance, he sought to meet the sage Kashyapa and the ascetic Kanva. He stationed his army—crowded with horses, foot soldiers, and elephants—at the edge of the forest and addressed them: “I will go to see the sage Kashyapa, pure and ascetic. Remain here until I return.” Having reached that forest, which rivaled the heavenly Nandana grove, the lord of men shed all hunger and thirst, his heart filled with joy. Accompanied by his ministers, bearing royal insignia, and his priest, the king proceeded to the excellent hermitage. Desiring to see the sage, a living storehouse of austerity, he beheld the hermitage, resounding with the hum of bees and filled with groups of twice-born, resembling the world of Brahma. With eyes wide in wonder, the king was delighted. He heard the recitation of Rig verses by the foremost Bahvrichas, performed in proper sequence as rituals were underway. The hermitage was adorned by those skilled in sacrificial rites and Vedic knowledge—knowers of the Yajurveda and sages of disciplined vows singing sweet Sama hymns. The place shone with those of controlled selves, well-disciplined, singing the Bharunda Sama and Atharva hymns. Foremost Atharva Veda reciters, singers of the Puga and Yajniya Samans, chanted the Samhitas with proper sequence of words. Other twice-born uttered words adorned with correct sound and intonation, making the hermitage resound and appear like another world of Brahma. There were those skilled in sacrificial bedding, well-versed in ritual order, and endowed with knowledge of logic and the self, accomplished in the Vedas. Some were masters of diverse arguments, well-versed in the specifics of actions, devoted to doctrines of liberation and righteousness. Others had attained knowledge of the ultimate truth through establishing, refuting, and concluding doctrines, and were experts in grammar, metrics, etymology, and the science of time. There were those who knew substances, actions, and qualities, discerned causes and effects, understood the cries of birds and monkeys, and relied on Vyāsa’s treatises. The king heard his own fame proclaimed in various principal scriptures, echoed all around by the foremost materialist philosophers. Here and there he saw eminent Brāhmaṇas, steadfast in their vows, devoted to recitation and offering. He saw seats of wondrous and pleasing design, carefully arranged, and was filled with amazement. Observing the worship performed by the twice-born at the shrines of the gods, the king felt as if he were dwelling in the world of Brahmā. He could not be satisfied gazing upon that excellent and auspicious hermitage, protected by Kashyapa’s austerities and endowed with the virtues of the forest of penance. Entering Kashyapa’s abode, surrounded on all sides by great sages rich in austerity, together with his ministers and priests, he found himself in a secluded, exceedingly charming, and auspicious place. As he went on, the mighty-armed king sent away his ministers, but did not see the sage of firm vows in the hermitage. Finding it empty, he called out loudly, making the forest resound, “Who is here?” Hearing his voice, a maiden radiant as the goddess of fortune herself emerged from the hermitage, dressed in the garb of an ascetic. Seeing King Duṣyanta, the dark-eyed maiden was greatly pleased, for a worthy and venerable guest had arrived. Endowed with beauty and youth, virtuous and well-conducted, she beheld him—broad-eyed as a lotus, broad-chested, and mighty-armed, with lion-like shoulders and long arms, honored with all auspicious marks. She addressed him, touching him with sweet words, quickly welcoming and honoring him, offering him a seat and water for washing his feet and for hospitality. After properly honoring him and inquiring about his well-being, she asked the king about his health. Smiling, she said, “What business is to be done? What purpose brings you to this hermitage, and what do you wish to accomplish?” The king, seeing her flawless in every limb and having been duly honored, replied with sweet words, “I am the son of that royal sage, the great-souled Ilina. My name is Duṣyanta, O lotus-eyed one, and I have come to pay respects to the illustrious sage Kaṇva.” The maiden then explained, “My revered father has gone from the hermitage to gather fruits; please wait a moment, you will see him when he returns.