Pāṇḍu, afflicted by his inability to father children, addressed Kuntī, saying, “O Pṛthā, listen as I explain the ancient law regarding sons. According to tradition, there are six kinds of sons who are considered true kinsmen and heirs: a son born of one’s own body, an appointed son, a purchased son, one born of a remarried woman, one born to an unmarried woman, and one born to a woman who acts of her own will. In addition, there are six other types—such as a son who is given, one who is bought, one who is artificial, one who comes of his own accord, one who is raised together, one who is a relative, and one who is born of a lower womb—who are also recognized, though not considered true heirs. When a man lacks a son, or a more suitable heir is absent, it is permitted to seek a son in other ways. In times of adversity, people may desire a son from a brother-in-law or from a man of superior virtue. Yet, Manu, son of Svāyambhuva, has declared that the best offspring—fruitful in righteousness—are those begotten from one’s own seed. Therefore, O Kuntī, since I am deprived of this power, I urge you today to strive for offspring. It is proper to desire children from someone equal or superior in virtue. Listen, Kuntī, to the story of Śāradaṇḍāyinī. Your virtuous sister, Śrutasenā, was wed to the illustrious Kaikeya, Śāradāṇḍāyana. Instructed by her elders in the matter of bearing a son, she bathed with devotion at night at the crossroads. She chose a learned and accomplished Brahmin, and after performing the proper rites for a son, lived with him and bore three great warriors—Durjaya and his brothers. Therefore, blessed one, follow my guidance and strive to have offspring by a Brahmin endowed with ascetic power.” Hearing these words, Kuntī, ever devoted, replied to her husband, the heroic Pāṇḍu, “O knower of righteousness, do not speak to me thus. I am your loyal wife, O lotus-eyed one. You yourself, O mighty-armed Bhārata, will beget sons in me, heroic and strong, in accordance with righteousness. O joy of the Kurus, I wish to go to heaven together with you; for the sake of offspring, let it be you alone who approaches me. Never, even in thought, would I turn to another man. Who on earth is superior to you? Now, O righteous one, listen to this ancient story of virtue, well-known among the wise, which I shall recount. Once there was a king named Vyuṣitāśva, famed for his righteousness, who increased the line of Puru. While he was performing a great sacrifice, the gods, along with Indra and the divine sages, came to witness it. Indra rejoiced with Soma, and the twice-born Brahmins received gifts from the great-souled king Vyuṣitāśva. The gods and Brahmin sages themselves performed the sacred rites, and the king shone brighter than all mortals, just as the sun outshines all beings at winter’s end. Vyuṣitāśva subdued the kings of all directions at the great horse sacrifice and became renowned throughout the land. He protected all his subjects as a father does his sons and gave wealth to Brahmins through grand sacrifices. He amassed countless treasures and performed many Soma rites. His wife was Kakshivatī, also known as Bhadra, esteemed for her beauty beyond compare. The two loved each other deeply, but when the king, fulfilled in love, was struck by illness, he soon departed this world, leaving his wife overwhelmed with grief and without a son. Bhadra, bereft and sorrowful, lamented her fate: ‘A woman, though supremely righteous, is incomplete without her husband. To live without him is to suffer; it is better to die than to endure such loneliness. O king, I wish to follow your path—be gracious and take me with you. Even for a moment, I cannot bear to live without you. I will follow you, whether the road is smooth or rough, never turning back. Like a shadow, I will always be by your side, devoted to your pleasure and welfare. From this day forth, sorrow will overwhelm me in your absence. Surely, because of my misfortune, I have been separated from my companions, and now, from you. A woman who lives even a moment separated from her husband lives in misery, as if dwelling in hell. Unions and separations with husbands are the result of deeds from previous lives; this suffering is the fruit of sins accumulated in former births.’ Thus, Kuntī recounted the story, expressing her unwavering devotion and her resolve to remain true to her husband, seeking only his companionship and the path of righteousness.