When Savita, the radiant Sun, saw his daughter Tapati come of age, he was filled with both pride and concern. Tapati, dark-complexioned and about sixteen years old, shone with a beauty that seemed to rival the very heavens. Yet her father found no peace, constantly pondering whom he might give her to, for she was unmatched in grace and virtue. Meanwhile, the powerful king Samvarana, son of Riksha and a mighty descendant of the Kurus, began to worship the Sun with great devotion. He made offerings of water, garlands, gifts, and fragrant substances, observing purity and discipline, undertaking austerities and fasts. Eager to serve, humble in speech, and pure in heart, Samvarana worshipped the rising Sun with unwavering dedication. The Sun, seeing Samvarana’s gratitude, righteousness, and unmatched beauty among mortals, judged him a worthy husband for Tapati. Thus, the Sun resolved to give his renowned and noble daughter to Samvarana, the foremost of kings. Just as the Sun illuminates the heavens with his brilliance, so did Samvarana shine on earth with his splendor. The people, especially the Brahmanas, honored Samvarana as the Brahmavadins worship the rising Sun. The king was as lovely as Soma, as brilliant as the Sun, and dear to both friends and even those who were unfriendly. Observing his virtues and conduct, the Sun himself decided that Samvarana should be Tapati’s husband. One day, the illustrious and unconquerable king Samvarana went hunting in a forest at the foot of the mountains. During the hunt, he was afflicted by hunger and thirst, and his incomparable horse died on the mountain. Wandering on foot, Samvarana came upon a maiden with wide eyes, whose beauty was unmatched in the world. He stood gazing at her, unable to move his eyes from her form. Her beauty seemed to him like fortune itself, and he thought she was the radiance fallen from the Sun. In form and splendor, she was like the flame of fire; in serenity and luster, like a spotless crescent moon. Standing on the mountain slope, the large-eyed maiden shone resplendently, like a golden image. Her beauty and attire made the mountain, with its trees, creepers, and plants, appear as if made of gold. Seeing her, Samvarana disregarded all other women in the world, believing he had attained the very fruit of his eyes. From birth onward, no form he had seen equaled hers. His mind and eyes were bound by her, caught in the cords of her qualities; he did not move from that place, nor was he aware of anything else. Surely, he thought, after churning the worlds of gods, asuras, and humans, the Creator had manifested this form of the wide-eyed maiden. Samvarana pondered: in beauty, wealth, and fortune, there was no maiden like her in the world. Seeing this auspicious maiden, his heart was seized by longing, pierced by the arrow of desire. Burning with the fierce fire of love, the king—though usually bold—now spoke hesitantly to that captivating maiden. He asked, “Who are you? Whose are you, O slender-thighed one? For what purpose do you stand here? And how do you wander alone in this lonely forest, O pure-smiling one? You, flawless in every limb and adorned with all ornaments, are like the ornament desired by these very ornaments. I do not think you are a goddess, nor an asura, nor a yakshi, nor a rakshasi; nor do I think you are a naga maiden, a gandharvi, or a human woman. Among all the noble women I have seen or heard of, I do not consider any of them to be your equal. Just by seeing your lovely face, more lustrous than the moon, with eyes like lotus petals, love overwhelms me.” Though the king spoke to her in the lonely forest, the maiden did not reply at all to the love-stricken man. As he pleaded, she vanished among the clouds, like a flash of lightning. The king wandered everywhere in the forest, searching for the lotus-eyed woman, roaming about like one mad. Not finding her, he lamented greatly and stood motionless for a moment. Then, as she became invisible, the king, bewildered by desire, fell to the ground. As he lay fallen on the earth, she of lovely smile and broad hips appeared again before him. The auspicious one addressed the king, the glory of the Kurus, whose heart was struck by desire, with sweet words. Tapati, as if smiling, spoke sweetly: “Rise, rise! Good fortune to you. You are not fit for delusion, O subduer of foes. You are not meant to fall into delusion on the earth.” Thus addressed with sweet words, the king saw her, with broad hips, standing before him, and he spoke to her, she of dark eyes.