When the Gandharvas had left the forest, the king—exhausted and stripped of his clothing—seized the two and made his way toward his own house. But as he journeyed, he was overcome with sorrow, for Urvashi was gone. Lamenting bitterly, he wandered naked and desolate. The noble Urvashi, upon seeing her husband in such a state, departed as well. Thus, the king wandered from place to place, his heart tormented and his mind disturbed by longing and helplessness. Consumed by desire and grief, he roamed across the earth, calling out in anguish. Eventually, his restless search brought him to Kurukshetra, where he saw Urvashi once more. Joy lit his face as he called out to her, “Ah, wife, stay! Stay! In this terrible place, do not abandon me, your devoted beloved, who is innocent.” He pleaded, “If you leave me here, O goddess, my body will fall, devoured by wolves and crows, for you, O fair one, have abandoned me.” As he lamented, Urvashi turned to the pitiable, exhausted king, tormented by desire and utterly helpless, and spoke: “You are a fool, O tiger among kings! Where has your wisdom gone? There is no true friendship with women, O king, just as there is none with wolves. One should not place trust in women, thieves, or kings. Go home and enjoy yourself in comfort; do not let your mind fall into despair.” Though thus instructed, the king, blinded by attachment to a woman of fickle heart, could not understand. Bound by his longing, he fell into the deepest sorrow. Sūta then said, “This is the great story of Urvashi, recounted in the Vedas. I have told it to you in brief.” Turning to another wondrous tale, Sūta continued: Upon seeing a maiden with dark, intoxicating eyes, Vyāsa was lost in thought. “What should I do?” he wondered. “This divine apsaras is not suitable for me.” As Vyāsa pondered, the apsaras, Ghṛtācī, grew fearful, anxious that the sage might curse her. In her fright, she transformed herself into a female parrot and swiftly departed, trembling. Vyāsa, astonished to see her in this bird form, felt desire awaken in his body merely from the sight. Amazed and unsettled in every limb, the sage strove to restrain his mind with great self-control. Yet, deluded by Ghṛtācī and overpowered by destiny, Vyāsa could not subdue his thoughts. While preparing to kindle a sacred fire in the forest, the sage’s semen fell unexpectedly. Without dwelling on this, Vyāsa continued churning the fire-sticks. From them, a wondrous son was born, shining with his father’s captivating form, just as a blazing fire shines at a sacrifice. Vyāsa was filled with amazement at the sight of his son and recalled the boon once granted to him by Śiva. The boy, though born from fire-sticks, was radiant as a second fire, glowing with his own brilliance. Vyāsa beheld his joyful son, resplendent with divine splendor, like a sacred household fire. Coming down from the mountain, Vyāsa bathed the child in the waters of the Gaṅgā. As he did so, a shower of flowers fell from the heavens, and ascetics gathered in wonder. Vyāsa performed all the birth rites for the great-souled boy. Divine drums resounded, and the apsarases danced in celebration. The Gandharva lords—Viśvāvasu, Nārada, and Tumburu—sang joyfully at Śuka’s birth. All the gods and Vidyādharas offered praise, marveling at Vyāsa’s divine son, born from the womb of a fire-stick. From the sky descended a staff, a beautiful black antelope skin, and a divine water pot, all for Śuka. The radiant child, though just born, immediately grew. Vyāsa, wise in the rites of learning, performed his son’s initiation. At the moment of his birth, the Vedas, with all their secrets and collections, approached Śuka, just as they had his father. Because a parrot-form had been seen at his birth, Vyāsa named his son Śuka. Śuka then took Bṛhaspati as his teacher and, following the prescribed vows, observed the life of a student. He mastered all the Vedas and their secrets, as well as the treatises on dharma, completing his education in the teacher’s house. Having given the teacher’s fee, Śuka returned to his father, Kṛṣṇadvaipāyana. Vyāsa, overjoyed at his son’s arrival, rose up, embraced him again and again, and lovingly smelled his head. He inquired after Śuka’s well-being and studies, and, comforting him, settled the great-souled son in the auspicious hermitage. Then Vyāsa considered Śuka’s marriage and quickly sought a beautiful sage’s daughter as a bride. He said to Śuka, “You have studied the Veda, O sinless one, and all the treatises on dharma. Now, O wise one, take a wife. Enter household life, worship the gods and ancestors, and free me from my debts, my son, by taking a lovely wife. For one without a son, there is no destiny, no heaven, none at all. Therefore, O greatly fortunate one, today enter the householder’s stage.