Freed from all sin, he ascended to the world of Viṣṇu. In those days, there was a noble woman who bore a hundred sons, famed as the Tālavaṅghas. Among her other children, beginning with Vṛṣa, were the virtuous Yādavas, renowned for their righteous deeds. Madhu, another illustrious figure, also had a hundred sons, and among them, Vṛṣaṇa rose as the head of the lineage. Vṛṣaṇa’s son was Durjaya, a man accomplished in all branches of knowledge. Durjaya’s wife was deeply devoted to him, steadfast in her own dharma. One day, Durjaya and his wife beheld the celestial goddess Urvaśī, whose sweet voice filled the air with song. After some time, Durjaya approached her and said, “O goddess, you should make love with me.” He enjoyed her enchanting company for a long while, as if she were another god of love herself. At last, Urvaśī smiled and said, “I will go now to the delightful city. Yet affection has arisen in me; I must stay for another year. I will return here again—grant me permission for that. Until then, you must not make love with any other apsaras.” Having parted from Urvaśī, Durjaya returned to his devoted wife, but a sense of fear overcame him. Seeing her husband so troubled, she, whose beauty was full and radiant, spoke to him gently, “Tell me the truth of this; I will not report it to the other kings.” But Durjaya remained silent, unable to answer her, nor could he perceive the truth through the vision of knowledge. She warned him, “If you are afraid, O great king, your kingdom will fall into ruin.” Seeking guidance, Durjaya went to the sacred hermitage of the sage Kanva and paid his respects. Then, filled with resolve, he set out towards the slopes of the Himalayas. His radiance shone like the sky, and he was adorned with a divine garland. His mind was fixed on Urvaśī alone, thinking, “She alone is worthy of this.” Driven by longing, he entered into a great battle, striving to seize the garland. Eagerly, he sought out another apsaras, Kalindi, wandering across the entire earth and its seven continents. His search led him to the golden mountain Hemakuta, the foremost among mountains. There, in the midst of wondrous garlands, they indulged in fierce desire. Overcome by passion, Durjaya lost all sense of his surroundings, not even noticing the mountain peaks as he went. With divine might, he ascended to the very world of the gods, reaching the great mountain Meru. Surpassing even its highest peaks by the strength of his own arms, he attained his goal. He saw Urvaśī again, flawless in form, and presented her with the garland once more. Knowing himself fulfilled, he spent a long time in her company. But then, a question arose: “What did you accomplish before, O king, going to the city in vain? Was it the sight of Kanva, or the taking of the garland?” It was foretold that Kanva would pronounce a curse upon him, and his beloved would be taken away. Yet Durjaya did not leave Urvaśī’s side, his mind firmly set on her. He was always accompanied by Suromasha, whose eyes were tawny and hair fine. Eventually, remorse overtook him. Thinking, “Fie upon me,” he resolved to undertake austerities. Once again, for twelve years, the king lived on air alone, practicing supreme austerity and yoga, dwelling with an apsaras as he sought purification and peace.