When the king heard of Nandini the cow, he commanded his mighty attendants, their pride in their strength evident: “Seize Nandini and bring her here.” Without hesitation, the king’s servants rushed forward, grabbing hold of the sacred cow and restraining her by force. Trembling with fear, Surabhi—Nandini’s mother—her eyes brimming with tears, turned to the sage and cried out, “O revered sage, why do you abandon me, letting them drag me away so cruelly?” The sage replied gently, “O giver of excellent milk, I do not abandon you. Today, the king takes you by force, despite the honor I have shown him. What can I do? In my heart, I would never forsake you.” Upon hearing the sage’s words, Nandini’s anger flared. She let out a harsh, terrible bellow, so dreadful that from her very body sprang forth fierce demons. Armed and armored, they shouted, “Stop! Stop!” Charging into battle, these demons decimated the king’s entire army, freeing Nandini from her captors. King Vishvamitra, defeated and alone, departed the scene, his heart heavy with distress. Overcome by sorrow, Vishvamitra pondered the immense power of the Brahmins, realizing that the strength of the warrior caste could not compare. He resolved, then and there, to abandon his kingly ways and pursue severe austerities, determined to attain the strength and wisdom of a sage. For many years in the great forest, Gādhi’s son undertook rigorous penance, eventually earning the status of a sage and leaving behind the path of the warrior. Therefore, O king, you too must not create needless enmity, for conflict with ascetics brings ruin to one’s lineage. Go now to the eminent sage, offer your respects, and comfort that treasury of austerity. As for Sudarshana, let him remain here as he wishes. The boy is destitute and harmless; your animosity toward this helpless, weak child serves no purpose. Show compassion everywhere, for this world is governed by fate. What use is envy, O foremost of kings? What is destined will surely come to pass. By the workings of fate, a thunderbolt may become as weak as straw, and at other times, straw may strike with the force of a thunderbolt. Destiny is powerful indeed. Sometimes a hare may slay a tiger, or a mosquito bring down an elephant. Abandon recklessness, O wise one, and heed my beneficial advice. Vyasa continued: Hearing these words, King Yudhajit, the best among rulers, bowed his head respectfully to the sage and returned to his city. Manorama, meanwhile, remained peacefully in the hermitage, caring for her son Sudarshana, who observed his vows with diligence. Day by day, the prince grew in strength and stature, playing fearlessly among the children of the sages, auspicious in every way. On one occasion, a cat wandered into the hermitage. The sage’s son, seeing the animal, called it “impotent.” Sudarshana, hearing this, clearly pronounced the single-syllable word, with its nasal sound, and repeated it again and again. In that moment, the boy mentally grasped the seed-mantra known as Kāmarāja. He recited it with great devotion, holding its power within his mind. By the workings of destiny, the wondrous Kāmarāja mantra came to him naturally, as if by divine will. In his fifth year, he obtained the supreme mantra—one lacking the usual meter of the seers, and received without formal meditation or ritual gestures. From then on, Sudarshana silently recited the mantra every day, whether playing or sleeping, never forgetting its essence. When he reached his eleventh year, the sage initiated him and instructed him in the Vedas. Sudarshana diligently studied the Dhanurveda and its branches, the science of polity, and all the arts, empowered by the strength of the mantra. One day, Sudarshana beheld with his own eyes the divine form of the Goddess. She appeared clothed in red, her complexion radiant, every limb adorned with red ornaments. Seated upon Garuda, manifesting as the wondrous Vaishnavi Shakti, she smiled graciously at the prince, filling his heart with joy. Dwelling in the forest, Sudarshana mastered all the truths of knowledge, served the Divine Mother, and played along the riverbank. There, Ambika bestowed upon him a bow, arrows tipped with iron, a quiver, and armor. At that time, in the kingdom of Kashi, lived Supriya, the king’s daughter, named Shashikala, graced with divinity and every auspicious mark. Hearing from bards of Sudarshana—the handsome, heroic prince dwelling in the forest, radiant with all noble qualities—Shashikala’s heart was stirred. She longed to choose him as her husband. One night, as she slept, Jagadamba, the Mother of the Universe, appeared to her in a dream and spoke comfortingly: “Choose your boon, O lovely-hipped one! Sudarshana, my devotee, will fulfill your every desire, by my word, O beautiful lady.” Awakening, Shashikala was filled with joy, her mind alight with the memory of the enchanting Mother’s form and her blessing. Her mother, noticing her delight, questioned her repeatedly, but out of shyness, Shashikala did not reveal the true cause of her happiness. Instead, she laughed and rejoiced, recalling the dream again and again, and eventually confided in a close friend, describing the wondrous vision in detail. One day, for amusement, Shashikala and her friends went to a beautiful grove adorned with champaka flowers. While gathering blossoms beneath a champaka tree, her wide eyes sparkling, she noticed a Brahmin hurrying along the path nearby.