Shakuntala’s mother spoke with sorrow and conviction, saying, “Each person alone commits sin and alone reaps its fruit; I have always restrained you, yet you do not heed my words.” She lamented how her son would often chase elephants with his bare arms and wander fearlessly through forests teeming with lions and tigers. Because of such bold actions and others, the venerable sage grew angry, and thus both mother and son were banished from their home. Resolute, she declared, “I will not go to Dushyanta, nor am I a well-wisher of my son; I will remain at the feet of the great-souled sage.” Having spoken these words, she fell weeping at the sage’s feet. As she lamented, Kanva, ever gentle, consoled her with wise and compassionate words. Kanva addressed Shakuntala tenderly: “Listen, dear one, to this beneficial and wholesome advice. Except for the virtues of a devoted wife, nothing else is truly attainable. The gods themselves are pleased with devoted wives and grant them all boons; they show favor and deliver them from calamities. By her husband’s favor, a woman attains merit and never misfortune. Therefore, go to the king and win his favor, O pure-smiled one.” Having thus spoken to Shakuntala, Kanva turned to her son: “O child of Shakuntala, you are the grandson of the great-souled Ilila. Hear my true words, O sinless one: though she desires her husband in her heart and has spoken various words, the noble lady does not wish to go. Therefore, my child, you must carry her; you are able to return with the sages, O descendant of Puru.” Kanva then instructed his disciples, “Quickly take Shakuntala and her son from the hermitage. Bring her, honored with all auspicious marks, near her husband; for women do not find long residence among relatives pleasing. Do not delay—lead her away, for the sake of reputation, conduct, and righteousness.” Hearing that her son was honored by the righteous Kāśyapa, and with Kāśyapa’s permission, Shakuntala rejoiced. When Kanva’s words were spoken and she was repeatedly urged to depart, her son, the descendant of Puru, said to Kanva and his mother, “Mother, why do you delay? We shall go to the king’s palace.” After speaking thus to his noble mother, wife of Dushyanta, the boy bowed to the sage’s feet and prepared to depart. Shakuntala, with joined palms, bowed to her father and, after circumambulating him, spoke with humility: “If, out of ignorance, I have ever said ‘he is not my father,’ or spoken harshly, falsely, improperly, or undesirably, may you forgive me for that.” The sage, his head bowed, said nothing. Even Kanva, though a sage, shed tears—such is the nature of human hearts. Kanva then summoned ascetics of great austerity: those who lived on water or air, who ate fallen leaves, who subsisted on fruits and roots, who were restrained and emaciated, their veins prominent. He called together ascetics who kept vows, wore matted hair or were shaven, clothed in bark or skins. Moved by compassion, Kanva spoke to them: “This illustrious daughter of mine, born and raised in the forest, has always been cherished by me and knows nothing of the world. Let her be escorted by all of you from the hermitage to the house of the Kshatriya. At the second yojana, O Brahmanas, lies the city of Pratishthana.” He continued, “In Pratishthana, the king—Shakuntala’s grandfather—once dwelled for a long time with Urvashi. That excellent city, at the confluence of the Ganga and Yamuna, abounds in marshes and jungles, and is filled with wealth and grain. There, upon reaching the confluence, after bathing and offering oblations into the fire, and eating vegetables, roots, and fruits, you ascetics should return; otherwise, O Brahmanas, the journey will bring fatigue.” The ascetics agreed, saying, “So be it,” and set out, leading Shakuntala toward Dushyanta’s city. They took her lotus-eyed son, radiant as a yak-tail fan, and journeyed from the forest to the beautiful city where Dushyanta dwelled. The ascetics, devoted to righteousness, guided Shakuntala through forests, rivers, mountains, and streams. They traversed mountain valleys, riverbanks, kingdoms, cities, and sacred hermitages, their fatigue dispelled as they pressed onward. Gradually, at midday, they reached Pratishthana, the city built by Puruhuta for the son of Ila. Pratishthana was a city guarded by strong gates and battlements, with hundreds of arrangements for defense, engines for hurling stones, and machines for protection, making it difficult for enemies to approach. Its streets were crowded with mansions and palaces, adorned with various goods, surrounded by beautiful halls, pavilions, and delightful assembly places, encircled by water-houses. The city was graced by a great royal road, splendidly laid out and decorated with gateways resembling the peaks of Kailasa. Auspicious gateways, arches, and exits adorned its boundaries, surrounded by gardens and mango groves, and girdled by sala trees. All kinds of lotus ponds and gardens encircled the city, inhabited by people of every class and stage of life, steadfast in their duties and ever engaged in festivals. Pratishthana was prosperous with wealth and grain, its people content and honored with jewels. Learned men who had performed sacrifices and were devoted to fire rituals filled its streets. Free from those who acted wrongly, generous and compassionate, the people shunned unrighteousness and sought the heavenly worlds. The city, filled with such virtuous souls, resembled another world of Indra. In its midst stood the royal palace, awaiting Shakuntala’s arrival.