Within the city, there stood a magnificent palace, shining with the splendor of Indra’s own mansion. Its halls were filled with heaps of wealth, and at its heart lay a divine assembly hall, adorned with countless precious jewels. In that splendid hall, the royal sage, adorned in all his ornaments, sat surrounded by Brahmanas, Kshatriyas, and wise counselors. The king was praised by bards, genealogists, and minstrels, attending to all who came before him with requests. When their business was done, he graciously dismissed them. Afterward, the king sat at ease, while great sages, hearing the cries of birds skilled in omens, observed the auspicious signs. They declared, “For Shakuntala, these omens are favorable; they foretell success. Surely, you will become queen, and today your son will be made crown prince.” With the sound of instruments resounding at the gate of Vardhamanapura, the sages entered, placing Shakuntala at the forefront. As the prince entered, the onlookers praised him; the descendant of Puru passed through the gate, feeling as if he dwelled in Indra’s own realm, his heart filled with joy. All the townspeople gathered, eager to see the prince. Shakuntala shone before them like a goddess, as if fortune itself had arrived, reminiscent of Paulomī returning from Indra’s realm with Jayanta. The people approached the radiant sages, greeting them together. They exclaimed, “Today our birth is fruitful, and we are fulfilled, for we behold these great sages, radiant as the sun.” Some followed the Paurava prince, whose lotus eyes resembled those of the son of Himavat. Others, deluded and eager to see Shakuntala, claimed they did not wish to look upon her, for she was covered in a black antelope skin. These townsfolk appeared deformed, like fiends or spirits entering the city at an improper hour. Emaciated by hunger and thirst, clad in bark and animal skins, reduced to skin and bone with exposed veins, they had tawny eyes and matted hair, long teeth, gaunt faces, shattered heads, and upraised arms. The townspeople laughed at their appearance. Hearing such words, the great sages called to one another and spoke: “The command of the venerable one, who speaks the truth, has not been followed: ‘Entry into the city must not be made’—such was the instruction. Why should we enter a city filled with wicked people? What purpose does a city serve for an ascetic who has abandoned attachment?” Thus resolved, they decided to depart for the forest, to the confluence of the Ganges and Yamuna, and left as they had come. Seeing the sages depart, Shakuntala took her son by the hand; she grieved, like children bereft of their parents. Though overcome by sorrow, she steadied herself and, radiant, walked the royal road after the brahmins had left. With only her son as companion, she moved slowly, observing wonders she had never seen before along the royal road of the Pauravas. She gazed in amazement at the mansions, palaces, shrines, and splendid assembly halls. All who saw her remarked that she was like beauty deprived of its lotus, her gait graceful as a swan’s, her voice as sweet as a cuckoo’s. Her face was moon-like, her beauty rivaled Lakshmi herself, her smile was like a jasmine blossom, and her complexion shone like the heart of a lotus. Her eyes, wide as lotus petals, glowed like molten gold; her hands reached to her knees, her hair was lovely, and her breasts were full and close-set. Her hips were broad and shapely, her thighs like the trunks of young elephants, her feet high-arched and red, firmly planted upon the earth. Endowed with such beauty, she seemed to have descended from the world of the gods; so thought all the people in Dushyanta’s city. Again and again, they spoke of Shakuntala’s virtues: lion-eyed, lion-toothed, lion-shouldered, and mighty-armed. They praised the prince as well, with a lion’s chest, lion’s strength, lion’s stride, broad shoulders, a wide chest, and a head shaped like a parasol. His red palms and soles, red mouth, voice like a drum, marked with royal signs, and the splendor of royalty evident in him. In form, beauty, body, and energy, he equaled Dushyanta; whose son could he be? Thus, as they spoke, thousands praised them, and all the women, speaking with reason, joined in. With affection like relatives, they followed Shakuntala. Hearing the words of the city folk, Shakuntala fell silent. Reaching the palace door, Shakuntala was overcome and pondered deeply, weighed down by the gravity of her task. Filled with shame, she thought, “How can I, without embarrassment, speak to the king about my own cause?” Thus sorrowful and lost in thought, Shakuntala approached the king and was admitted to his presence. With her son, radiant as the rising sun, she approached the king, who sat upon his throne shining like Indra himself.