In the assembly of sages, a profound truth was spoken: the supreme power, honored by gods and demons alike, stands above all in the three worlds—nothing surpasses it. The essence of the Vedas and all scriptures is this, repeated again and again: truth, truth, verily truth. Whether the supreme power is without qualities or adorned with every attribute, it is always to be worshipped. Now, the sages turned to Sūta and inquired, “O Sūta, you have told us before how the illustrious Vyāsa, radiant beyond measure, composed the entire Purāṇa and imparted it to his son, the auspicious Śuka. But how did Vyāsa, after his deep austerities, obtain such a son? Please, recount every detail as you heard it from Kṛṣṇa himself.” Sūta replied, “I shall tell you of the wondrous origin of Śuka, the son of Vyāsa, who arose as the foremost of yogis. On the splendid summit of Mount Meru, Vyāsa, son of Satyavatī, undertook severe austerities, his heart set upon obtaining a son. He recited the sacred one-syllabled mantra—the very seed of speech—learned from Nārada, and meditated upon the supreme Mahāmāyā, desiring a son endowed with the wealth of penance. His prayer was simple yet profound: ‘May my son be as powerful as fire, earth, wind, and sky.’ Vyāsa abstained from food for a hundred years, worshipping Mahādeva, the Great God, and Sadāśiva as well. Again and again he reflected that true power is to be revered everywhere; the powerless are scorned in this world, but the powerful are honored. Upon that wondrous mountain peak, adorned with groves of golden karṇikāra trees, the gods and mighty ascetics, devoted to austerity, would sport and rejoice. The Ādityas, Vasus, Rudras, Maruts, the two Aśvins, and the sages—those who are the foremost knowers of Brahman—all reside there. Amidst the golden mountain’s summit, vibrant with the music of divine song, the righteous Vyāsa performed his austerities. The radiance of his penance filled the entire universe, both moving and unmoving; his matted locks glowed with the hue of fire. Seeing this brilliance, Indra, the lord of Śacī, was seized by fear. Observing Indra trembling and exhausted, the blessed Rudra addressed him kindly: ‘O Indra, why are you afraid? What troubles you, O lord of the gods? One must never resent ascetics, for they perform austerities in knowledge of me, who am the source of all power. Such ascetics never wish harm to anyone.’ Thus reassured, Indra replied, ‘Why is Vyāsa performing these severe austerities? What desire fills his heart?’ Śiva answered, ‘Vyāsa, son of Parāśara, seeks a son and has undertaken great penance. Though a hundred years have passed, today I shall grant him an auspicious son.’ With these compassionate words, Rudra, his face beaming, addressed Indra and then went to Vyāsa. The Lord of the Universe spoke, ‘Arise, O son of Vāsavī; an auspicious son will be born to you. He will be radiant with all brilliance, wise, and will bring you lasting fame. O sinless one, your son will be beloved by all, endowed with every virtue, pure in nature, and truly valiant.’ Hearing these gentle words, Kṛṣṇa Dvaipāyana Vyāsa bowed to the trident-bearing Lord and returned to his hermitage. Weary from his long austerities, he arrived swiftly at his dwelling. There, with secret fire-sticks, he began to churn for fire, his mind filled with anxious thoughts. As he churned, intent on producing a son, a vision appeared before him. From the union of the churning sticks and his action, something wondrous arose. Vyāsa pondered, ‘Just as fire arises thus, how will a son be born to me? The putrāraṇi, the stick for producing a son, is said to exist, but today I do not possess it. A young woman, beautiful and noble, devoted to her husband—how shall I find such a beloved, adorned with anklets on her feet? She who is skilled in bearing children, steadfast in her fidelity—whether devoted, skilled, beautiful, or passionate—such a woman is ever a source of bondage, though she grants pleasure at will. Even Shiva himself is bound by the snare of a passionate woman. How shall I undertake this difficult life of a householder?’ As these thoughts arose, Ghritachi, the divine apsara, appeared before him, radiant and enchanting, standing nearby in the sky. At the sight of her captivating eyes, Vyāsa’s body was overcome by the five arrows of love, despite his firm resolve. He thought, ‘What shall I do in this peril? If, in the presence of Dharma, this overpowering desire arises and I accept her, who has come to deceive, then great ascetics will laugh at me, seeing me agitated after a hundred years of penance. “How has this great ascetic become helpless at the sight of an apsara?” they will say. Still, let there be reproach if only there is incomparable pleasure. The householder’s life brings happiness, grants sons, is said to give heaven, and, for the wise, even liberation. But this will not happen with a celestial maiden; I have already heard from Nārada how King Pururavas was defeated and enslaved by Urvashi.’ At this point, the sages interrupted, eager to know more: ‘Who is this King Pururavas? And who is Urvashi, the celestial maiden? What hardship did that great king encounter? Please, O son of Lomaharshana, tell us the whole story, for we long to hear the nectar of your words.