With great faith, the royal elders assured one another, “By your blessings, there is no doubt—my son shall become king. You are all learned in the sacred mantras.” Meanwhile, Vyasa narrated how Sudarshana, wise and radiant, mounted his chariot and traveled with the splendor of a mighty army, though he was alone. Such was the power of the mantra-seed that he chanted with complete devotion; there is no force in this world to equal it. Sudarshana had received the wondrous Kamaraja mantra from his true teacher. Whoever, pure and peaceful at heart, recites this mantra attains all their desires. For one who has won the favor of Shiva and the Divine Mother, nothing on earth or in heaven is truly unattainable. But those who lack faith in the worship of the Mother are dull, unfortunate, and beset by suffering. She, who at the dawn of creation is celebrated as the Mother of all gods, is renowned as the Primal Mother. Intelligence, fame, fortitude, prosperity, power, faith, discernment, and memory—all these shine forth in living beings as her own manifestations. Yet those who are deluded by her Māyā fail to recognize her; attached to false reasoning, they do not worship the Divine Lady, the Ruler of the Universe, the Auspicious One. Even Brahmā, Viṣṇu, Śambhu, the Vasus, Varuṇa, Yama, Vāyu, Agni, Kubera, Tvaṣṭṛ, Pūṣan, the Aśvins, and Bhaga—all the gods—meditate upon the Goddess who creates, sustains, and dissolves the universe. The Ādityas, Vasus, Rudras, Viśvadevas, and the hosts of Maruts, too, worship her. Who, being wise, would not serve that Supreme Power? Sudarshana himself knew her as the Goddess, the Auspicious One who grants all desires. She is verily Brahman—embodying both knowledge and ignorance, accessible through yoga, the supreme power, and beloved of those who seek liberation. Without her, who reveals the threefold world to all beings, who could possibly know the true nature of the Supreme Self? Sudarshana, contemplating the Goddess in his heart, found happiness in the forest greater than any kingship. At the same time, a young woman—overwhelmed by the beauty of the crescent moon and struck by the arrows of desire—endured many restless days and nights, her form sorrowful. Her father, perceiving his daughter’s longing for an excellent husband, resolved to arrange a svayaṃvara, a ceremony where she could choose her own spouse. The learned say there are three types of svayaṃvara, but only two are suitable for royal marriages: the svayaṃvara of choice, and the wager, as when Rāma broke the bow of Tryambaka. The third, the valor-price, is reserved for heroes. The king, therefore, arranged a svayaṃvara of choice. Artisans constructed splendid platforms draped with fine coverings, and assembly halls of many forms were beautifully prepared. As these grand arrangements were made, the beautiful-eyed Śaśikalā, sorrowful, confided in her friend. In secret, she said, “Tell my mother on my behalf: The husband I have chosen in my heart is the noble son of Dhruvasandhi. I will not choose any other—Sudarshana alone, established by the Goddess, is my husband.” Her companion, thus instructed, quickly conveyed Śaśikalā’s words to her mother in private: “Your daughter is distressed, O noble lady. She has asked me to speak to you. In the holy hermitage of Bhāradvāja is the son of Dhruvasandhi—he is the husband chosen in my heart. I do not choose any other king.” Hearing these words, the queen waited for her husband’s return and faithfully reported their daughter’s wishes to him. The king was astonished, and, smiling repeatedly, said to his wife, “Subāhu’s words are true. You know that boy was exiled to the forest with his mother and lives there alone. For his sake, King Vīrasena was slain by Yudhājit. How can such a destitute man be a suitable husband for our daughter? Tell her, even if it pains her, that soon many established kings will come to the svayaṃvara.” The queen, thus instructed, took her daughter onto her lap and spoke gently to the pure-smiling Śaśikalā. “Why, my sweet-smiling child, do you speak such unwelcome words? Your father is pained by them. Sudarshana is most unfortunate—deprived of his kingdom, without support, army, or wealth, abandoned by his relatives. He lives in the forest with his mother, thin and subsisting on fruits and roots. This forest-dweller is not a suitable husband for you. “There are other royal princes, wise, handsome, and highly esteemed, adorned with royal insignia, who are worthy of you, my daughter. Even his brother now rules in Kosala, endowed with beauty and all auspicious marks. And there is another reason: King Yudhājit, who killed King Vīrasena and installed his own grandson on the throne, still seeks Sudarshana’s death.” Thus, the queen gently tried to dissuade her daughter, torn between royal duty and the earnest longing of a pure heart.