Without the presence of the supreme power—the Goddess herself—even the mightiest of gods, Brahma, Vishnu, Shiva, and all the others, are unable to act. So why should I, Sudarshana, have any worry, O kings? Whether I am weak or strong, whatever I am, I am so by her will alone. It is by her command, O noble kings, that I have come here today to the svayamvara. If she wishes to accomplish something, she will surely do it. Why should I be anxious? There is no room for doubt in this—this is the truth I speak. Whether I find victory or defeat here, I feel no shame, O kings. If there is to be shame, it belongs to the Goddess alone, for I am entirely under her authority. At these words, Vyasa narrates, the assembled kings looked at each other, exchanging thoughtful glances and deliberating together with certainty. They said, “Truly, noble one, you have spoken nothing but the truth; it cannot be otherwise. Yet, the lord of Ujjayini still harbors the desire to kill you. Out of concern for your well-being, O wise one, we speak thus: consider carefully what is proper, and act as you think best, O blameless one.” Sudarshana replied, “Your words are true and compassionate, O friends. What more can I say, having already spoken, O noble kings? No one can cause death to another at any time unless it is destined. All this world, moving and unmoving, is subject to fate. The soul is never independent; it is always bound by its own actions. The wise, who see the truth, say that actions are of three kinds: accumulated from the past, those currently being performed, and those just begun. By time, action, and nature, this entire world is woven together. No god can slay a human before the destined time arrives. Time, eternal and all-consuming, brings death only when the moment is ripe. Just as my own father, a destroyer of enemies, was slain by a lion, and my maternal grandfather was killed in battle by Yudhajit, so too does fate bring about the end, no matter how many efforts are made to prevent it. No one, without protection, can live for a thousand years. O Yudhajit, I do not fear, nor do the righteous ever fear. For those who consider fate to be supreme, steadfastness is natural, O kings. I constantly and always remember the Goddess, the Mother of the universe; she alone will bring about what is auspicious. Whatever was earned previously, whether good or ill, must be experienced—so what sorrow remains to those who understand that they are merely enjoying the fruits of their own actions? It is through the results of his own deeds that a thoughtless person attains suffering; lacking wisdom, he becomes an enemy to others for trivial reasons. But I see no enmity, sorrow, or fear in this way. I have come here without anxiety into this assembly of kings. Alone, I wish to witness this unparalleled svayamvara; whatever is destined will occur, for I have come by the command of Chandika herself. Restrained, I recognize no authority but the Goddess; whatever happiness or sorrow she grants will surely be, and not otherwise. Let Yudhajit find happiness; I bear him no enmity, O best of kings. Whoever bears enmity toward me will receive the results of that accordingly.” Vyasa continues: Thus addressed, the kings were satisfied with Sudarshana’s words, and he too, returning to his hermitage, found peace and contentment. On another auspicious day, the kings, after consulting together, assembled in the splendid pavilion of King Subahu. They sat on couches adorned with divine coverings, themselves adorned with auspicious ornaments. Dressed in celestial garments of their choosing, they shone like gods in their aerial chariots, standing eager to witness the svayamvara. All of them, deep in thought, wondered: when will the princess arrive, and which fortunate, noble, and virtuous king will she choose? They mused, “When, by fate, Sudarshana is adorned with the garland here, there will surely be conflict among the kings—of this there is no doubt.” As the kings sat upon their couches, lost in such thoughts, a great sound of musical instruments suddenly arose within the royal pavilion. At that moment, the king of Kashi spoke, bringing forth his daughter, who had been bathed and beautifully adorned, garlanded with fragrant madhuka flowers and dressed in fine silk. She was resplendent in wedding ornaments, divine in her appearance, resembling the daughter of the ocean. Absorbed in thought, beautifully dressed, and with a gentle smile, she spoke these words: “Rise, my daughter with the lovely nose. Take this auspicious garland in your hand, go today into the pavilion, and behold the assembly of kings. Among them, choose the one who is virtuous, endowed with beauty, of noble lineage, and who dwells in your heart, O slender-waisted one. See, O graceful one, all the rulers of various lands are seated on the arranged platforms; select as you desire.” Vyasa tells us: To her father, who spoke thus, the princess—though sparing in words—replied with gentle, righteous speech, like an innocent child. Shashikala said, “Father, I will not go before the kings; other women may go before those lustful rulers, but I shall not. I have heard the teachings of the scriptures: a woman should look upon only one man as her husband, not another. Chastity departs from her who goes before many; all those men, seeing her, form intentions in their hearts. When a woman enters the pavilion holding the garland at her own wedding, she becomes common, like another bride of loose character. Just as a courtesan, entering the marketplace, observes the men standing there and discerns their qualities and faults in her mind…” Thus, the story unfolds, with the wisdom of fate, the power of the Goddess, and the steadfast virtue of Shashikala shining amidst the assembly of kings.