Moved by deep affection, the venerable sage Kanva gently touched his radiant daughter, Śakuntalā, with his hands. With a voice full of blessing and gravity, he addressed her: “From this day forward, O noble lady, you are the wife of the great-souled Duṣyanta. Uphold the conduct that is proper for devoted wives.” Having spoken these words, the righteous sage refrained from further touch, honoring the purity required. Yet, even that brief, fatherly touch filled Śakuntalā with immense joy. After King Duṣyanta had departed, having pledged himself to her, the days began to pass. Day by day, the royal maiden bore within her the growing child of that great soul. Śakuntalā, ever mindful of the king and her uncertain situation, found herself sleepless both by day and night, neglecting her bathing and food, weighed down by longing and worry. She waited expectantly, certain that any day—today, tomorrow, or the next—the king’s messengers, brāhmaṇas, or troops would come for her. But time moved on relentlessly. Days, fortnights, seasons, months, and years slipped by, and as she counted them, three full years elapsed. When these years had passed, the wives of the sage, honoring Kanva’s command, spoke to Śakuntalā with gentle reasoning: “Dear one, listen to the ways of the world and do what pleases you after hearing us. The words of the guru should not be disregarded; do what brings benefit. Know that Viṣṇu is the deity of the gods, Agni of the brāhmaṇas, and Brahmā as well; for women, the husband is the deity, and for the worlds, the brāhmaṇa is the teacher. At the time of your birth, your revered father said, ‘Do as I say.’ That command must be fulfilled; only then will you act rightly.” Hearing these wise words, Śakuntalā accepted them, saying to herself, “So be it.” In due time, this slender-thighed lady gave birth to a son of boundless energy. When three years had passed, Śakuntalā brought forth a child endowed with beauty, generosity, and virtue—a son of Duṣyanta. At the moment of his birth, a shower of flowers fell from the sky. Divine drums resounded, and the hosts of Apsarases danced in joy. As the gods sang sweetly, Indra himself spoke: “O Śakuntalā, your son will become a universal emperor. His strength, energy, and beauty will be unmatched on earth. This Paurava will perform a hundred horse sacrifices. With countless royal sacrifices such as the Rājasūya, he will fulfill his purpose, giving immense gifts to brāhmaṇas as offerings.” Hearing the words of the gods, all the great sages dwelling in Kanva’s hermitage honored Kanva’s daughter with reverence. Śakuntalā, filled with great joy, summoned the brāhmaṇas, and the illustrious sages honored them as well. Kanva, foremost among the virtuous, performed for the child all the rites beginning with the birth ceremony and repeated them as the boy grew. Every prescribed ritual was carried out properly and justly. The boy flourished—his teeth were as white as ivory, his frame as powerful as a lion’s. He bore the mark of the discus on his hand and radiated a divine aura, seeming like another Viṣṇu—broad-chested, mighty, and strong. This boy, resembling a son of the gods, grew quickly in the hermitage. Yet, out of respect and perhaps fear of the sage, King Duṣyanta did not summon his son, though he remembered him in his heart. As more time passed, the king did not recall the ascetic; and after six years, the boy turned his attention to Kanva’s hermitage. There, he displayed astonishing strength: he struck down tigers, lions, boars, wolves, buffaloes, and bears—wild beasts that troubled the hermitage—using only his feet. With his arms, he would seize and subdue them, binding them to trees all around. He climbed trees, played, and ran about, roaming the forest teeming with lions and tigers. In battle, he slew all the Rakshasas and Pisachas, his enemies, with his fists, thereby pleasing the sages. Once, a mighty son of Diti, enraged by the slaughter of the Daityas, approached the boy with the intent to kill him. The boy only laughed, seized him with his arms, bound him tightly, and began to crush him. Unable to free himself from the boy’s grip, the demon cried out in terror, blood flowing from his mouth. The sounds so frightened the animals that herds of deer, lions, and others fled, and even the inhabitants of the hermitage were overwhelmed with fear. The demon managed to drag himself away and fell down, astonishing all who witnessed the boy’s deed. From that time on, the Daityas and Rakshasas, constantly being slain by the boy, no longer dared to approach the hermitage. Seeing his superhuman feats, all the dwellers of Kanva’s hermitage, together with Kanva himself, gave the boy a name: “Let him be called Sarvadamana, for he subdues all things.” Thus, the boy became known as Sarvadamana. Endowed with valor, strength, and might, Sarvadamana was compassionate and never turned away those who were afflicted—not the queen, nor the son. Yet, his mother Śakuntalā, her body pale as the moon, was overwhelmed by worry. With loose hair, emaciated, sorrowful, and clad in soiled garments, she endured her trials. Seeing Śakuntalā in such a state, the sage Kanva pondered the scriptures, the Vedas, and the twelve years that had passed. Observing the boy’s wondrous deeds and his maturity, the sage realized that the time had come for the boy’s investiture as crown prince.