During the sacred period of the four-month vow, the renowned sage Durvasa arrived at the home of Kunti. With reverence and care, Kunti served the sage, earning his deep satisfaction. Pleased by her devotion, Durvasa granted her a powerful mantra: whenever she invoked it, a god would appear before her and fulfill any wish she desired. After Durvasa departed, Kunti, remaining at home, grew curious about the mantra’s potency. She pondered which deity to call upon, and just then, the blazing Sun rose before her. Reciting the mantra, she invoked Surya, the radiant lord. At her call, Surya descended from his orb in the sky, taking on a human form of surpassing beauty, and appeared within her chamber. Kunti was astonished by the Sun’s sudden appearance. Overcome with awe and trembling, she felt the consequences of her womanhood. With joined palms and shining eyes, she spoke respectfully: “I am greatly pleased by your presence today; now please return to your own realm.” But the Sun replied, “Kunti, by the power of your mantra, I have been summoned. Why have you called me here, yet do not honor me, though I stand before you?” He continued, “O dark-eyed one, I am overcome with desire; unite with me, filled with devotion. By your mantra, I am under your control—let us enjoy together.” Kunti replied, “I am a maiden, O knower of righteousness, and I bow to you, the witness of all. I am not to be reproached, for I am a noble family's daughter, O virtuous one.” Surya responded, “Today I would feel great shame if I were to leave in vain; without doubt, I would become the talk of all the gods. Today I shall curse the brahmin who gave you the mantra, and you as well, Kunti, most severely, if you do not unite with me. Yet your maidenhood will remain intact; people will not know of this, O beautiful-faced one. And your son, equal to me, will be born to you.” Having spoken thus, Surya united with Kunti, who was deeply modest and absorbed in thought. He granted her the desired boon and departed. Concealing the embryo in a secret chamber, Kunti kept her condition hidden; only her nurse and closest companion knew, not her mother nor anyone else. In time, the child was born in secret, exceedingly charming, adorned with radiant armor and earrings. He shone like a second Sun or a celestial youth. Placing him in the nurse’s hands, Kunti, deeply ashamed, spoke to her. The nurse comforted her, saying, “Why do you worry, O slender-armed one? I am here.” Kunti then placed her son in a box and spoke with sorrow: “What am I to do, tormented for my son? I must abandon you, my beloved as life itself. Unfortunate as I am, I give up you, endowed with every auspicious mark. May the Goddess, with and without qualities, the supreme Lady Ambika, protect you; may the World-Mother Katyayani, fulfiller of wishes, give you her milk. When will I see your beautiful lotus face, worthy of my dearest love? Abandoning you, O son of the Sun, in the lonely forest, I am as wicked as a wanton woman. In a previous birth, I did not worship the Mother of the three worlds, nor did I long meditate on the bliss-giving lotus feet of auspicious Devi. Therefore, O son, I am always unfortunate; abandoning you again in the forest, I shall perform penance, remembering the sin I have knowingly committed.” Having spoken thus, Kunti, fearful of being discovered, placed her son in the box and entrusted him to the nurse. She then bathed and remained in her father’s house. The box was sent away and found by Adhiratha, a charioteer. Radha, Adhiratha’s wife, earnestly desired a son, and so the heroic Karna was raised in their home. Later, Kunti, still a maiden, was wedded to Pandu in her own svayamvara. Pandu also married Madri, the auspicious daughter of the king of Madra. While delighting in hunting in the forest, the mighty Pandu mistakenly slew a sage who was enjoying himself in the woods, thinking him to be a deer. The enraged sage cursed Pandu: “If you unite with a woman, then surely death will come to you.” Afflicted by the curse, Pandu abandoned his kingdom and dwelt in the forest, deeply sorrowful. Kunti and Madri, his two wives, accompanied him, intent on serving him and upholding the highest dharma, along with noble sages. They resided on the banks of the Ganga, staying in the hermitages of sages, listening to scriptures on dharma and performing severe austerities. Once, during a discourse, the king heard a sage speak about dharma: “For one without a son, there is no passage to heaven, O subduer of foes; by any means possible, one should ensure the birth of a son.” The sage explained the various types of sons—those born of a portion, to a maiden, field-born, foundlings, children from a vessel, raised by the husband, born out of wedlock, purchased, or found in the forest, and those given by someone in incapacity or as receivers of wealth. Each successive type was considered inferior to the previous. Hearing this, Pandu said to Kunti, lotus-eyed: “Quickly produce a son by approaching a sage engaged in austerity. By my command, there is no fault in you; formerly, O great one, a son named Saudasa was begotten by Vasistha upon the queen, as I have heard.” Kunti replied, “I possess a mantra that grants desires, given to me before by Durvasa, which always bestows success, O lord. Whichever god I invoke with this mantra, O king, he will certainly come to my side when invited.” By her husband's command, remembering the supreme dharma, Kunti invoked the gods. She united and bore her first son, Yudhishthira. From Vayu, she bore Bhima (Vrikodara) as a son, and from Indra, Arjuna. Thus, year by year, three mighty sons were born to Kunti.