The three worlds had become pervaded by the presence of those mighty beings, just as the sun fills all with its radiant rays. But now, O gentle listener, hear how misfortune befell the noble sage Vasiṣṭha and his family. It happened that Śakti, Vasiṣṭha’s eldest son, along with his brothers, was devoured by a fearsome Rākṣasa named Rudhira. This tragedy came to pass because of a curse uttered by Śakti himself. Urged on by the sage Viśvāmitra and acting under the command of King Kalmāṣapāda, Rudhira consumed the sacred offering intended for Vasiṣṭha, and then, in his terrible hunger, devoured Śakti and his brothers. When word reached Vasiṣṭha that his beloved son Śakti, foremost among the strong and a knower of dharma, had been slain in this dreadful manner, grief overwhelmed him. Again and again, the sage cried out, “O son, O son, O son!” With his faithful wife Arundhatī beside him, he collapsed to the ground, overcome by sorrow. The pain of losing his lineage was too much to bear. Remembering his hundred sons and especially Śakti, his eldest and most powerful, Vasiṣṭha resolved to give up his own life. “I will not live without him,” he thought, his heart heavy with grief. Together with Arundhatī, he climbed to the summit of a mountain, his wise mind clouded by sorrow, and with tear-filled eyes, they cast themselves down, wishing for death. But the earth herself, adorned and wondrous, moved with compassion. As Vasiṣṭha fell, she caught him in her lotus hands, supporting him as gently as a mother elephant her calf, and she wept with him as he mourned. At that moment, Śakti’s wife—Vasiṣṭha’s daughter-in-law—approached the sage, her face wet with tears and her heart trembling with fear. She spoke, her voice choked with emotion, “O revered one, best of Brāhmaṇas, preserve this blessed body of yours, O lord, so that you may see your grandson, my own son. You must not abandon this splendid body, for my child, the son of Śakti, who fulfills all purposes, is still in my womb.” Having spoken thus, the virtuous, lotus-eyed woman gently raised her father-in-law, bowed to him, and tenderly wiped his eyes with water. Though she herself was afflicted by sorrow, she tried to soothe Vasiṣṭha and also comforted Arundhatī, who was likewise distressed. Hearing the words of his daughter-in-law, Vasiṣṭha slowly rose from the ground, regaining his senses. He embraced her, but she, overwhelmed by grief, fainted in his arms. Arundhatī, her eyes brimming with tears, touched her, and Vasiṣṭha, loving his wife as dearly as a son, wept with her. Then, as if in a vision, just as the four-faced Brahmā sits in the lotus growing from Viṣṇu’s navel, a wondrous thing occurred: the unborn child, still in his mother’s womb, recited a Vedic verse—a Ṛc. Astonished, Vasiṣṭha listened and wondered who could have spoken such sacred words, focusing his mind intently. Suddenly, Lord Hari, the Supreme Being with eyes like lotuses, appeared in the sky. The soul of the universe and the very embodiment of compassion, He spoke kindly to Vasiṣṭha: “O dear child, O foremost of Brāhmaṇas, Vasiṣṭha, lover of your son, it is from the lotus-face of your grandson that this sacred verse has now emerged. This son of Śakti, your grandson, belongs to Me as well as to you, and he is powerful. Therefore, O best of Brahmā’s sons, arise and abandon your grief. Even now, while still in the womb, he is devoted to Rudra and intent on worshipping Him; by Rudra’s power, your lineage will be preserved.” Having spoken thus, the compassionate Supreme Person vanished from Vasiṣṭha’s sight. Filled with awe, Vasiṣṭha bowed his head to the unseen Lord, touched the womb reverently, and yet, grief still welled up within him. “Alas, son, son!” he cried, falling once more to the ground. Arundhatī too wailed, and the assembled Brāhmaṇas sought to comfort her. Remembering his son, Vasiṣṭha called out in anguish, “Come, come, my child! Behold, O Śakti, your son, the upholder of our lineage.” He declared, “I will go to you, together with your mother, without doubt,” and, weeping, embraced Arundhatī. In her own agony, Arundhatī struck her belly with her hand, and Śakti’s noble wife, overwhelmed by grief, vanished from sight, as if destroying the very home of Śakti. She fell to the ground, lamenting, and both Arundhatī and the great sage Vasiṣṭha were seized with fear. They hastened to raise their daughter-in-law and, trembling, spoke to her: “O bewildered one, why have you struck your womb with your lotus-like hands, as if to end the rare and precious lineage of Vasiṣṭha? Tell us, noble lady, how you have come to such a resolve.” They urged her, “See your own son, the son of Śakti, and taste the nectar of his mouth. The noble son of the sage is determined to protect this body; therefore, preserve your life.” Thus reproaching her, Arundhatī stood by her husband, distressed and agitated, and spoke to him, “O virtuous one, the life of this sage depends on you alone. Protect my life, and as the nurse of the body, do what is beneficial.” Śakti’s wife, struggling with her sorrow, replied, “If I am to protect the great sage, then whether my body is auspicious or inauspicious, I will somehow preserve it. I have known both joy and sorrow, and now am unchaste—of this, O sage, there is no doubt. I am burned by grief because I am your daughter. Ah, I have seen something wondrous, yet I am a vessel of sorrow. O Lord, become the remover of my suffering, O Brāhmaṇa, son of Brahma, teacher of the world. Still, a woman deprived of her husband is miserable in this world; protect me, O noble lord, or else I will be dishonored. For father, mother, sons, grandsons, and father-in-law—these are not true relatives for a woman; the husband alone is the true relative and the highest refuge.” Thus, amidst sorrow and compassion, the family of Vasiṣṭha endured their great loss, seeking comfort in each other and in the hope of the unborn child who would carry their lineage forward.