When Shakuntala, gentle and pure-hearted, feared that her union with King Dushyanta might be a violation of righteousness, she was reassured: “Union with a man is not unrighteous, dear one; do not be afraid, you have acted rightly.” She was told that for a Kshatriya, the Gandharva marriage—based on mutual desire and consent—is regarded as the highest form, and that she had nothing to fear. Furthermore, when such a union is performed with proper rites, it brings noble offspring. Dushyanta, righteous and great-souled, was praised as the best among men. Her husband, Dushyanta, who had come to her while she was devoted, was recognized as a man of great virtue, and it was foretold that her son would become renowned throughout the world. He would rule the entire earth, bounded by the oceans, and the wheel of his sovereignty would advance without obstruction. For Shakuntala’s sake, the speaker expressed great satisfaction, saying that many seasons had passed in vain, but now her union had borne fruit and she was blameless. She was invited to ask for any boon she desired. Shakuntala responded with reverence, acknowledging Dushyanta as her husband in the presence of the gods, and requested that blessings be bestowed upon him and his counselors. Having spoken thus, the wise woman chose righteousness and steadfastness in the kingdom. Kanva, the foremost among the righteous, affirmed her wish for the good of Dushyanta of the Paurava line, saying, “So be it.” He lovingly touched his radiant daughter and declared, “From this day forward, noble lady, you are the wife of the great-souled Dushyanta. Uphold the conduct proper for devoted wives.” Having spoken, Kanva refrained from further touching her, preserving purity, but even his gentle touch brought Shakuntala great joy. After Dushyanta departed, having pledged himself, Shakuntala, the royal maiden, day by day bore the growing child of that great soul. Constantly thinking of the king, troubled by her situation, she remained sleepless, neglecting bathing and food. She waited, certain that the king’s messengers, Brahmanas, or troops would arrive any day. Days, fortnights, seasons, months, and years passed as she counted them, and three years elapsed. When three years had fully passed, out of respect for the sage’s words, the wives of the sage spoke to Shakuntala many times with reasoned words. They advised her: “Listen, dear one, to the ways of the world; do what pleases you after hearing. The words of the guru should not be disregarded; do what is beneficial.” They reminded her that for women, the husband is the deity, and for the worlds, the Brahmana is the teacher. At the time of childbirth, her father, the venerable Kanva, had said: “Do as I say.” That should be done, and then she would have acted rightly. Hearing these words, Shakuntala accepted them, thinking, “Well, so be it.” The slender-thighed lady gave birth to a son of boundless energy. When three years had passed, Shakuntala gave birth to a son endowed with beauty, generosity, and virtue—the son of Dushyanta. At his birth, a shower of flowers fell from the sky, divine drums resounded, and the hosts of Apsarases danced. As the gods sang sweetly, Indra himself spoke: “O Shakuntala, your son will become a universal emperor. His strength, energy, and beauty will be unmatched on earth; he, the Paurava, will perform a hundred horse sacrifices. With countless royal sacrifices such as the Rajasuya, he will fulfill his purpose, giving immense gifts to Brahmanas as offerings.” Hearing the words of the gods, all the great sages dwelling in Kanva’s hermitage honored Kanva’s daughter. Shakuntala felt great joy, called the Brahmins, and the illustrious sages honored them. Kanva, foremost among the virtuous, performed for the child all the rites beginning with the birth ceremony, and repeated them as the boy grew. He performed all the prescribed rituals properly and justly; the boy grew with teeth white as ivory and a frame like a lion’s. He bore the mark of the discus on his hand, was radiant, and seemed another Vishnu himself—broad-chested, mighty, and powerful. The boy, resembling a son of the gods, quickly grew in the hermitage. Yet, out of fear of the sage, Dushyanta did not summon him, though he remembered. As time passed, the king did not recall the ascetic; after six years, the boy turned toward Kanva’s hermitage. He struck down tigers, lions, boars, wolves, buffaloes, and bears—wild beasts that troubled the hermitage—with his feet. With his strength, he seized and subdued them with his arms, binding them to trees all around the hermitage. He climbed trees, played, and ran about, roaming the forest filled with groups of lions and tigers. Then, in battle, he slew all the Rakshasas and Pisachas, his enemies, with his fists, thereby pleasing the sages. A certain mighty son of Diti, enraged at the slaughter of the Daityas, approached him, desiring to kill him. When that being approached, the boy laughed, seized him with his arms, bound him tightly, and began to crush him.