On a wondrous mountain peak, bedecked with flourishing groves of karṇikāra trees, the gods and great ascetics devoted to austerity would gather to sport and delight. This summit was a place of celestial play, where the Ādityas, Vasus, Rudras, Maruts, the twin Aśvins, and the foremost sages—knowers of Brahman—made their abode. Amidst this golden mountain, whose heights echoed with melodious song, the righteous Vyāsa, son of Satyavatī, undertook his austerities. So intense was the radiance of his penance that it filled the entire universe—both moving and unmoving beings—with its brilliance. The matted locks of this wise son of Parāśara glowed with the color of fire. Witnessing Vyāsa’s dazzling splendor, Indra, the lord of Śacī, was seized by fear. Observing Indra—known also as Turāsāha—trembling and exhausted, the blessed Rudra spoke to him: “O Indra, why are you afraid now? What troubles you, lord of the gods? One should never harbor resentment toward ascetics, for they perform their austerities with knowledge of me and my power. These sages never wish harm in any way.” Thus reassured, Śakra addressed Rudra, the bull-bannered one: “Why is Vyāsa performing such severe austerities? What desire occupies his mind?” Śiva replied, “The son of Parāśara seeks a son and undertakes these penances for that purpose.” “Though a full hundred years have passed,” Śiva continued, “today I shall grant him an auspicious son.” With these compassionate words, Rudra’s face shone as he spoke to Indra. Then, approaching the sage, the Lord of the Universe said, “Arise, son of Vāsavī; an auspicious son will be born to you. He will be filled with brilliance, wise, and will bring you fame, O sinless one. Your son will be beloved by all. He will possess all virtues, be 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 many years of austerity, he swiftly reached his dwelling. There, with the secret fire-sticks, he began to churn, seeking to produce fire, but his mind was restless and anxious. As he was intent on bringing forth a son, a mysterious apparition appeared. From the union of the churning sticks and his effort, fire arose, prompting Vyāsa to wonder, “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, of noble birth, devoted to her husband—how can I find such a beloved, adorned with anklets at her feet?” He reflected further: “She who is skilled in bearing children, always steadfast in fidelity—whether devoted, skilled, beautiful, or passionate—is ever a source of bondage, yet brings 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?” While Vyāsa thus pondered, Ghritachi, the divine apsara of enchanting form, appeared before him, hovering nearby in the sky. Seeing this radiant, captivating maiden, Vyāsa’s body, though firm in his vow, was at once struck by the five arrows of love. He thought anxiously, “What shall I do now, caught in this peril? When, in the presence of Dharma, desire—so hard to overcome—arises, if I succumb to her, who has come to deceive, great ascetics will laugh at me, seeing me agitated after a hundred years of austerity. How has this great ascetic become helpless at the sight of an apsara? Yet, let there be reproach if only there is incomparable pleasure.” He reasoned further: “The householder’s life brings happiness, grants sons, is said to give heaven, and, for the wise, even liberation. But that will not happen with this celestial maiden. I have already heard from Nārada the tale of how King Pururavas was defeated and enslaved by Urvashi.” At this point, the assembled sages, eager for more, interjected: “Who is this King Pururavas? Who is Urvashi, the celestial maiden? What hardship did that great-souled king encounter? Tell us the whole story, O son of Lomaharshana; we long to hear the nectar flowing from your lotus mouth. Your speech, O Sūta, is sweeter than nectar, full of flavor; we never tire of it, just as the gods never tire of ambrosia.” Sūta replied: “Listen, O sages, to this divine and delightful tale. I shall tell it as I heard it from the noble Vyāsa, to the best of my understanding. The beloved wife of the guru, famed as Tara, was beautiful and youthful, graceful in form, and intoxicated with passion. Once, this radiant lady went to the abode of the Moon, the sacrificer. The Moon, resplendent with beauty and youth, saw her and was overwhelmed with desire for her. Seeing the Moon, Tara too was afflicted by love. The two, filled with mutual passion, were both pierced by love’s arrows and, intoxicated by desire, spent several days delighting in each other’s company. Bṛhaspati, stricken with sorrow, sent his disciple to bring Tara home, but she, enchanted, did not return. When the disciple repeatedly failed, Bṛhaspati himself, angered, went to Soma’s house. Arriving there, the noble-minded Bṛhaspati, enraged, spoke to the smiling, intoxicated Moon.