At an auspicious time chosen under a star favored by the gods, Pramadvara’s father gave his radiant daughter to Ruru, arranging their marriage with great care. As the days passed and the wedding drew near, Pramadvara, a maiden of exquisite beauty, spent her time joyfully playing with her friends. One day, as fate would have it, while lost in play, she failed to notice a snake lying asleep across her path. Unaware and heedless, she stepped directly onto the serpent, as if destiny itself guided her toward this moment. The snake, roused by the inevitable workings of time, struck fiercely, sinking its venomous fangs into her. At once, Pramadvara collapsed to the ground. The color drained from her face, her beauty faded, and she lost both her ornaments and consciousness. Her luxuriant hair fell loose, and she lay lifeless, no longer visible to the world she once adorned, becoming a cause of deep sorrow for her family and loved ones. Though struck down by poison and lying motionless, she seemed merely asleep, her slender form retaining a haunting enchantment. Her father and other ascetics beheld her fallen there, shining with a radiance like that of a lotus. Moved by compassion, many eminent brahmins—Svastyatreya, Mahajanu, Kushika, Shankhamekhala, Uddalaka, Katha, the illustrious Shveta, Bharadvaja, Kaunakritsa, Arstishena, Gautama, and Pramati with his son—gathered and saw the maiden, lifeless, struck down by the serpent’s bite. Overwhelmed with grief, they wept for her. Ruru, heartbroken, could not bear to stay; he withdrew outside, while the revered twice-born sat in mourning. Ruru, tormented by sorrow, wandered into the dense forest and cried out in anguish. There, he lamented bitterly, his heart heavy with memories of his beloved Pramadvara. He mourned aloud, “She lies on the ground, slender-limbed, amplifying my grief, her face once like the full moon, now as if she is taking my very life. If she, with her graceful form and lotus-petal eyes, departs from this world, will she not take my soul with her? What greater sorrow can there be for my father, mother, friends, and kin than the loss of one so dear, now deprived of offerings and care?” In his despair, Ruru called upon the merit of his own deeds, “If I have ever given, practiced austerities, or honored my teachers, by that virtue, let my beloved live again. As I have remained self-controlled and steadfast in my vows since birth, may this radiant Pramadvara rise up today.” As he grieved, a divine messenger approached him in the forest. Ruru, still lamenting, invoked his unwavering devotion to Krishna, Vishnu, Hrishikesha, Lord of the worlds and foe of the asuras, praying that his beloved might live. Moved by Ruru’s anguish, the gods, filled with compassion, sent their messenger to speak for his welfare. The messenger, pure and devoted, quickly arrived and spoke to Ruru, “O Brahmin, I have been sent by all the gods. Listen well, best of the twice-born, to these words meant for your benefit. Your lament is not in vain, but know that for mortals, once life has departed, it does not return. Her life is gone, this unfortunate daughter of a gandharva and an apsaras, so do not let your mind be consumed by grief.” Yet the messenger continued, “A means has been established by the great gods in the past. If you wish to undertake it, you may yet have Pramadvara restored to you.” Eagerly, Ruru asked, “What is this means set forth by the gods? Tell me truly, O celestial; I will do as you say—please, 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.” At that, the king of the Gandharvas and the divine messenger approached the Lord of Dharma and spoke, “O Lord of Dharma, with half of Ruru’s lifespan, let his wife Pramadvara, the auspicious one, rise—if you so decide.” The Lord of Dharma replied, “If you wish, let Pramadvara, Ruru’s wife, rise up, endowed with half of Ruru’s lifespan.” With these words, Pramadvara awoke as if from sleep, her complexion radiant, restored to life with half of Ruru’s years. Thus, it was seen that for the sake of his beloved, half the lifespan of Ruru—so splendid and long-lived—was given up. On a blessed day, their fathers, filled with joy, arranged the marriage. United in happiness and seeking each other’s welfare, Ruru and Pramadvara delighted in one another. Having regained his rare and radiant wife, Ruru took a solemn vow: he would destroy all crooked beings, steadfast in his resolve. Whenever he encountered such beings, Ruru’s anger flared; he would strike at them with his weapon, never failing in his purpose. One day, as he entered a great forest, he saw an aged Dundubha lying there. Raising his staff, fierce as the rod of Time, the angry sage, intent on slaying the being, addressed Dundubha directly.