At that very time, O sage, the king of the Gandharvas, Vishvavasu, was born to the celestial nymph Menaka. When the proper moment arrived, Menaka, the Apsaras, released her child, entrusting her to the care of destiny, and left her near the hermitage of the sage Sthulakesha. Without pity or shame, Menaka abandoned the infant by the riverbank and departed, leaving the child to her fate. Soon after, a great sage happened upon the riverbank and saw the girl, radiant and beautiful, as if she were born of the immortals themselves, lying there alone and abandoned. Sthulakesha, the illustrious ascetic, found the child bereft of kin, shining with extraordinary grace in the wilderness. Filled with compassion, the sage took the girl into his care and raised her lovingly in his auspicious hermitage, performing all the necessary rites for her upbringing in due order and with proper observance. As the girl grew, she blossomed into a woman of exceptional beauty, virtue, and form, surpassing all others. The great sage named her Pramadvara. In time, Ruru, a righteous and noble soul, beheld Pramadvara in the hermitage and was overcome by love for her. He informed his father, the descendant of Bhrigu, and his friends of his desire, and Pramati, his father, approached the renowned Sthulakesha to formally seek the maiden’s hand. Sthulakesha, accepting the proposal, gave Pramadvara to Ruru, and the marriage was arranged to take place at an auspicious time, under a star presided over by the gods. As the wedding day drew near, Pramadvara, glowing with happiness, played with her friends. Unaware, she stepped upon a sleeping snake stretched across her path—an act prompted by fate itself. The serpent, awakened and compelled by the law of time, bit her fiercely with its venomous fangs. Struck by the poison, Pramadvara suddenly collapsed to the earth; her color faded, her beauty vanished, and her ornaments and consciousness slipped away. She lay there, her hair loosened, lifeless and no longer to be seen, becoming a source of deep sorrow for her loved ones, though once she had been the most beautiful of all. Even in death, as she lay on the ground as if asleep, her slender form seemed all the more enchanting. Her father and the other ascetics found her fallen and writhing upon the earth, still radiant as a lotus. The eminent twice-born sages, filled with compassion, gathered together: Svastyatreya, Mahajanu, Kushika, Shankhamekhala, Uddalaka, Katha, the illustrious Shveta, Bharadvaja, Kaunakritsa, Arstishena, and Gautama. Pramati, with his son Ruru and other forest-dwellers, joined them and saw the maiden lying lifeless, struck down by the serpent’s poison. Overcome with grief, they wept for her. But Ruru, stricken with sorrow, left the gathering and wandered into the dense forest, while the best of the twice-born remained seated in mourning. Deeply distressed, Ruru wandered amidst the trees, crying aloud in his anguish. Overwhelmed by sorrow, he lamented bitterly, recalling his beloved Pramadvara. He mourned, “She lies on the ground, slender-limbed, her face like the full moon, and my sorrow only increases. If she, with her broad hips and lotus-like eyes, is about to die, will she take my very life with her? What greater sorrow could there be for my father, mother, friends, and kin than this loss of one so dear, deprived even of final offerings?” In his grief, Ruru prayed, “If ever I have given, performed austerities, or honored my teachers, by that merit let my beloved live again. As I have been self-controlled and steadfast in my vows since birth, so may this radiant Pramadvara rise up today.” As he lamented thus, a divine messenger appeared before Ruru in the forest. Ruru continued his prayer, “If my devotion to Krishna, Vishnu, Hrishikesha, Lord of the worlds, and enemy of the asuras is unwavering, let my beloved live.” The gods, moved by compassion at his plight, sent their messenger to speak words for Ruru’s welfare. The pure and devoted messenger approached swiftly and addressed the grieving Ruru: “O Brahmin, I have been sent to you by all the gods. Hear, best of the twice-born, the words spoken for your benefit. What you say in your grief is not in vain; but for mortals, once life has departed, there is no return. The life of this unfortunate daughter of a Gandharva and an Apsaras is gone. Do not let your mind be consumed by grief, dear one. “Yet, a means has been established by the great gods in the past. If you wish, you may yet obtain Pramadvara here.” Ruru implored, “What is this means established by the gods? Tell me truly, O celestial; hearing it, I shall do accordingly. May you be pleased to save me.” The messenger replied, “O descendant of Bhrigu, grant half of your own lifespan to the maiden. Thus, your wife Pramadvara will rise again.” Without hesitation, Ruru declared, “O best of those who move in the sky, I give half of my lifespan to the maiden. Let my beloved, adorned with beauty and ornaments, arise.” Thus, through the compassion of the gods and the selfless love of Ruru, hope was kindled for the return of Pramadvara.