The birth of a sinful son brings deep sorrow to his parents. Such a child brings no benefit to his friends, nor does he even trouble his enemies—he is simply a source of misery. In contrast, blessed indeed are those in whose home a virtuous son dwells, one who is devoted to serving others and brings joy to his mother and father. A wicked son, however, destroys the family, ruins its good name, and brings suffering not only in this life but also torment in the world beyond. Through him, the lineage is lost; with a bad wife, one’s birth is wasted; with impure food, the day is ruined; and with a false friend, there can be no happiness. So it happened that a sage, tormented day and night by the evil conduct of his own son, went to the wise Garga and sought his counsel. The sage, named Ṛtavāk, addressed Garga with humility: “O venerable one, I wish to ask you—please tell me, according to the science of astrology, what is the cause of my son’s wickedness?” He explained further, “By serving my teacher, I have studied the Vedas properly. I have observed the vow of celibacy and performed my marriage according to the sacred rites. With my wife, I have always upheld the duties of a householder and performed the five daily sacrifices as prescribed. Out of fear of hell, not out of desire for pleasure, I performed the rite of conception according to the rules, all for the sake of obtaining a worthy son. Yet this son of mine, whether by my fault or his mother’s, has been born as a source of sorrow, wicked in conduct, and a cause of grief to his relatives.” Hearing these words, sage Garga reflected deeply and then spoke, revealing the cause through his astrological wisdom: “O sage, neither you nor your wife nor your family is at fault. The cause of your son’s wickedness lies in the unfavorable period of Revati. Because your son was born at an inauspicious time, this alone is the reason for your suffering—there is no other cause, not even the smallest.” Garga then advised, “To end this suffering, O Brahmin, worship with devotion the auspicious Mother of the worlds, Durgā, the destroyer of misfortune.” Overcome with anger upon hearing this, Ṛtavāk cursed the star Revati: “Let Revati fall from the sky!” As he uttered this curse, the star of Pūṣā also fell from the heavens, shining brightly upon Mount Kumuda before the eyes of all the worlds. From this fall, Raivataka became renowned, and Kumuda Mountain arose, becoming exceedingly beautiful from that time onward. Having pronounced this curse, Ṛtavāk, following Garga’s instructions, worshipped the Goddess Ambika with devotion and, by her grace, attained happiness and good fortune. Skanda then spoke: From the radiance of the fallen Revata constellation, a maiden was born, whose beauty was unparalleled in the world—she shone as if she were a second goddess of fortune. Seeing this radiant maiden, the sage joyfully named her Revati. Thereafter, the great sage Pramucha took her to his own hermitage on Kumuda Mountain, raising her righteously as if she were his own daughter. As Revati matured and her beauty blossomed, the sage began to ponder who would be a suitable husband for her. Though he searched in many ways, he could not find a worthy match. So, entering the fire-sanctuary, the sage offered praises to Agni, the fire-god. Pleased by his devotion, Agni granted the maiden a boon: her husband would be righteous, strong, heroic, eloquent, and unconquered in speech. “He will be Durdama, a king, difficult to subdue, and her husband,” declared Agni. Hearing this, the sage was filled with joy. By divine arrangement, at that very moment, a king named Durdama—wise and intelligent—arrived at the sage’s hermitage under the pretext of hunting. He was the son of Vikramashila, powerful and valiant, born of Kalindi, and descended from the illustrious lineage of Priyavrata. Entering the hermitage and not finding the sage, the king greeted Revati and affectionately asked her, “O beloved, the venerable sage has left the hermitage; I wish to see him. Tell me truly, O auspicious one, where he has gone.” Revati replied, “O great king, the sage has gone to the fire-sanctuary.” Hearing this, the king quickly departed from the hermitage. Standing at the doorway of the fire-sanctuary, the sage saw King Durdama, adorned with royal marks and humbly bowing. The king paid his respects, and the sage instructed his disciple Gautama to bring the arghya, the welcoming offering, saying, “This king is worthy of such honor. He has come after a long time, especially as a prospective son-in-law.” The king thoughtfully accepted the offering, and the sage honored him with blessings and inquired about his well-being: “O King, is all well with your army, treasury, friends, servants, ministers, city, country, and with yourself?” The sage then said, “Your wife is well, for she is here herself; therefore I do not ask about her. Tell me about the welfare of your other wives.” King Durdama replied, “O venerable one, by your grace, all is well with me everywhere. But, O Brahmin, I am curious—which of my wives is here?” The sage answered, “Your wife named Revati, unrivaled in beauty on earth, is here. O King, how is it that you do not know your own wife?” The king responded, “O lord, I know all my wives, such as Subhadra and the others, who are in my house, but I do not know Revati.” The sage then said, “O wise King, the one whom you just now called ‘dear’ has been forgotten by you in a moment, though she was your most cherished beloved.” The king replied, “What you say is not false; I addressed her just as you did. O sage, my mind is not wicked; you should not be angry.” The sage concluded, “O King, what you have said is true; your mind is not corrupted. By the prompting of Agni, such unspoken words came from you.” Thus, through the interplay of fate, virtue, and divine will, the story of Revati and Durdama unfolded, blessed by the wisdom of the sages and the grace of the gods.