The compassionate brāhmaṇa, seeing the woman weeping before him, spoke to her with kindness: “Do not grieve, O blessed one. I shall tell you the end of your curse.” He explained, “Because of the power of my angry curse, you have entered the womb of a fish, O auspicious one. But know this: after giving birth to two humans, you will be freed from this curse.” Hearing his words, the woman accepted her fate. She assumed the body of a fish in the river’s waters. In time, she gave birth to two children, and with that, her life as a fish ended, releasing her from the curse. She shed the form of a fish and regained her radiant, divine appearance. Freed from her suffering, she took the path of the immortals. From this wondrous event was born Matsyagandhā, a beautiful-faced and excellent daughter. Raised in the house of a fisherman, Matsyagandhā grew up radiant and bright, performing her tasks with grace. She was also known as Vāsavī, and her presence shone in the fisherman’s home. Time passed, and the story of Vyāsa’s birth unfolded. Once, during a pilgrimage, the great sage Parāśara, filled with energy, came to the excellent bank of the Kālindī river. Approaching a fisherman who was preparing food on the riverbank, Parāśara requested, “Take me across to the far shore of the Kālindī by boat.” The fisherman, hearing the sage’s words, called to his charming young daughter, Matsyagandhā. “Child, take the sage across to the far shore by boat; this ascetic, pure-smiling one, wishes to go.” Obediently, Matsyagandhā, also called Vāsavī, took Parāśara into the boat and began to row him across the river. As they traveled on the sparkling waters of the daughter of the Sun, fate stirred the heart of Parāśara. Upon seeing Matsyagandhā’s lovely eyes, desire arose within him. Her youth was apparent, and the sage, overcome, reached out and touched her right hand with his own. Matsyagandhā, dark-eyed and gentle, smiled and spoke: “Is this conduct fitting for your family, your learning, and your austerity? You are the heir of Vasiṣṭha, noble in lineage and character, a knower of dharma. Why, afflicted by desire, do you seek such an act? Human birth is rare, O best of Brāhmaṇas, and Brāhmaṇahood is rarer still. By lineage, conduct, and learning, you are foremost among the twice-born. How have you come to this, desiring me—a woman of fish-scent? O Brāhmaṇa of steady mind, what auspicious quality do you see in me that you wish to take my hand? Driven by desire, you approach me—do you not recognize your own dharma?” She thought to herself, “Alas, this Brāhmaṇa, his mind dulled by desire, is intent on taking my hand. Struck by the five arrows of Kāma, his mind is agitated, and none here can oppose him.” Resolving to calm him, she spoke: “Compose yourself, O highly fortunate one. I will indeed bring you to the far shore.” Hearing her gentle and thoughtful words, Parāśara released her hand, and, having crossed the river, stood on the opposite bank. Yet, desire still gripped him, and once more he reached for the fish-scented maiden. Trembling, Matsyagandhā addressed him: “O best of sages, I am foul-smelling—how do you not hesitate? Union of those of equal nature brings happiness.” At her words, Parāśara transformed her. In an instant, the radiant maiden was endowed with a fragrance that spread for a yojana; she became beautiful, with a lovely face, fragrant like musk, charming and delightful. Still afflicted by desire, the sage took her by the right hand. Now willing, the auspicious Satyavatī—another name for Matsyagandhā—spoke: “O sage, people and my father are watching from the riverbank. A union like that of animals, openly and harshly, does not please me. Wait, O best of sages, until night falls. Union is prescribed at night, not by day; people find great fault in intercourse during the day. Restrain your desire, O wise one; public censure is hard to endure.” Hearing her reasonable plea, Parāśara, by the power of his merit, quickly created a thick mist. Darkness enveloped the riverbank, hiding them from the world. In the shelter of the mist, the maiden gently spoke: “I am a virgin, O foremost of Brāhmaṇas. After enjoying me as you wish, you will depart. But your potency is unfailing—what will become of me? What shall I say to my father if I become pregnant? You will leave me; tell me, what should I do then?” Parāśara replied, “Choose a boon, O timid one, whatever you desire, O beautiful lady.” She asked, “Let my vow of maidenhood not be broken; grant this, O best of twice-born. May my son be equal to you, possessing wondrous strength. May this fragrance always remain with me, and my youth be ever fresh and renewed.” Parāśara assured her: “Listen, O beautiful one. Your son, born in the lineage of Vishnu, will be pure and renowned throughout the three worlds. For some reason, I have become infatuated with you. Never before, O lovely-faced one, have I lost composure, not even upon seeing the forms of apsaras. By divine arrangement, seeing you, I became subject to desire; this is due to some cause, for destiny is hard to overcome. Seeing you, who once had a very unpleasant scent, how could I have become deluded? Your son, O beautiful one, will be the composer of the Purāṇas.” Thus, in the midst of fate and blessing, was born the great sage Vyāsa, destined to shape the stories of the ages.