On an auspicious day, the sacred rite of consecration was performed for the boy, and in his brilliance he surpassed even the venerable elders, earning the name Upabarhaṇa. Sauti tells us that the king of the Gandharvas, filled with joy, bestowed abundant gifts upon the brāhmaṇas to mark this blessed occasion. In the course of time, Upabarhaṇa attained what is exceedingly rare: the mantra of Hari, the Supreme Lord. As he reached the fullness of youth, he once found himself on the banks of the sacred Gaṇḍakī river. There, in the prime of life, he and his companions undertook intense austerities. Through the power of yoga, they renounced their lives, embracing the highest spiritual path. The women who had performed these practices alongside him chose Upabarhaṇa, the radiant Gandharva, as their husband. Ever youthful and steadfast, he accepted them as his wives. Together, they ruled the kingdom for a long time, sharing their days and nights in harmony. Once, amidst the splendor of the assembly, Upabarhaṇa beheld Rambhā, her firm breast swaying gracefully as she danced. The sight so overwhelmed him that he abandoned his song mid-performance and collapsed, unconscious, on the assembly floor. In that moment of weakness, a decree was pronounced: "Go, you, to a birth among the Śūdras, and abandon your Gandharvī form." For truly, without adversity, O son, there is no true greatness among men. Having spoken thus, the Creator departed from Puṣkara, returning to his own abode. Within the subtle body, the Mūlādhāra, Svādhiṣṭhāna, Maṇipūra, and Anāhata centers were awakened, as were the Iḍā, Suṣumnā, Medhā, and Piṅgalā nāḍīs—channels that carry the vital breath. The Viśuddhā, Niruddhā, and the channel through which air circulates, as well as the channel of intellect that expands knowledge, were all pierced. Passing through these sixteen nāḍīs, and the haṃsa—the seat of the soul—he paused for a moment, uniting his individual self with the Supreme Self. Then, taking up the three-stringed vīṇā, rare and hard to obtain, and placing it upon his left shoulder, he uttered the supreme Brahman—the very essence of the Vedas, the highest of the high. Lying with his head to the east and his feet to the west, the king of the Gandharvas beheld him at that very moment, together with his wife. A great lament arose; all the wives and relatives wailed and wept bitterly. Among the fifty women, the chief queen, Mālāvatī, cried out in anguish, clasping her beloved to her breast. Overcome with sorrow, she pleaded, "Grant me a vision, O friend, for I am submerged in an ocean of grief." She recalled their joyful times together: in the sandalwood forest, adorned with beautiful garments, in the secret places of intimacy; near the sandalwood mountain, within the fragrant woods; in the delightful groves of Mount Gandhamādana by the riverbank; on the sacred mountain, in the divine forest, attended by Śrīnivāsa. She remembered the playful acts they shared in secret during the spring, and the times when his words, as sweet as nectar, drenched her in happiness. She lamented, "Association with the virtuous is more difficult to obtain even than Vaikuṇṭha. Therefore, separation from them brings the greatest sorrow to the good. The loss of a child surpasses even death in pain. Whether lying down, eating, bathing, dreaming, or awake, a woman forgets all sorrow merely by union with her husband. Without my husband, I see no relative as dear as he." In her grief, she called out, "O guardians of the directions, O Dharma, O Lord of creatures," seeking solace and bearing her heart’s anguish to the universe.