Hear now the tale as it unfolds in the ancient Mahābhārata. Long ago, a sacred boundary was established upon earth, distinguishing the relationship between man and woman among humans—a rule not found among other creatures. From that time onward, it has been known that if a wife leaves her husband, it is considered a grave sin, as dreadful and joyless as the sin of destroying an embryo. Even today, those who are free from desire and anger still honor this tradition. In the northern regions, this ancient law is especially observed and revered by great sages. It is said that if a man approaches a maiden who is devoted to chastity, this too is counted as a sin on earth. Likewise, if a wife, assigned by her husband to bear children, does not fulfill this duty, she incurs a great fault. Thus, this boundary was firmly established in ancient times. This rule regarding the begetting of children was set by Shvetaketu, son of Uddalaka, and by Saudāsa. It is also told that Madayanti went to the sage Vasishtha and, through him, obtained a son named Ashmaka, wishing thereby to please her husband. O lotus-eyed one, even your own birth is of a similar nature, as is well known. Similarly, Krishna-Dvaipayana (Vyāsa) was invoked for the continuation of the Kuru lineage. Therefore, considering all these precedents, one should follow the righteous words spoken by the husband. At the proper season, the husband is regarded as the lord of the devoted wife—this is the law declared by those who know dharma, and it must not be transgressed. At other times, it is said, a woman may have independence. Thus, people speak of this ancient law: whether righteous or unrighteous, the wife should act according to her husband’s command. The knowers of the Veda declare that whatever the husband says should be done, especially when he desires a son but is himself unable to beget one. Just as I, said Pandu, long to see a son—one with red-tipped nails and hands like lotus leaves. For your sake, O beautiful one, I bow with joined palms and ask that, by the ascetic power of a Brahmin, you bear sons endowed with virtue. In this way, I would attain the blessed destiny of those who have children. Thus addressed, Kunti, noble and devoted to her husband’s welfare, replied to Pandu, conqueror of cities: “O best of the Bharatas, it is a great injustice among women that a husband, once pleased, must be pleased again. But hear now what will bring you joy. While still a girl in my father’s house, I was assigned to honor guests and served a fierce and steadfast Brahmin, Durvasa, whose intentions in dharma are hidden. I satisfied him with all my efforts, and he, being pleased, granted me a boon connected with a sacred ritual. He gave me a mantra and said: ‘Whichever god you invoke with this mantra, whether with desire or not, will come under your control. By the grace of that deity, you will obtain a son.’ Thus I was told, O king, and the Brahmin’s words are true. Now the time has come; with your permission, I will invoke a god. The illustrious one gave me this knowledge, and by it, when a god is invoked, he will grant a son equal to the gods and remove the sorrow you bear for being childless.” Now, O listener, let us turn to the story of the children of Dhritarashtra. You have already heard how, by the sage’s favor, Dhritarashtra had a hundred sons, but the daughter was not mentioned. There was also Yuyutsu, born of a Vaishya woman, and one daughter—making more than a hundred. This daughter was the child of the king of Gandhara, called the ‘mother of a hundred sons.’ How, then, did this daughter, Duḥśalā, come to be? The great sage Vyāsa, of immeasurable energy, divided the flesh-mass into a hundred portions. Sprinkling it with cold water, he apportioned it equally, giving each portion to a nurse, and then placed each into a separate pot filled with ghee. Meanwhile, the virtuous Gandhari, firm in her vows, though she wished for a daughter, said nothing to the sage out of respect. In her heart, she prayed, “May I have a hundred sons. Yet, my greatest satisfaction would be if I had a daughter as well.” She thought, “Let there be one girl, younger by a hundred, and through her, by her son, my lineage will continue beyond this world. He will not be an outsider, but my own daughter’s husband. It is said that a woman’s affection is greatest for her daughter’s son-in-law. If only I might have a single daughter, younger by a hundred, I would be fulfilled, surrounded by sons and grandsons, if my austerities, gifts, or offerings have truly borne fruit. Or if I have pleased my elders, then let it be so: let me have a daughter.” Thus, by the sage’s power and Gandhari’s wish, the daughter Duḥśalā was born, completing the number of Dhritarashtra’s children and fulfilling the queen’s deepest desire.