Markandeya, the venerable sage, spoke of the four sons of Drona—Pingaksha, Vibodha, Suputra, and Sumukha. These birds, foremost among their kind, were renowned for their wisdom and deep understanding of sacred scriptures. They possessed unobstructed intellect, able to comprehend the meaning of the Vedas and other holy texts, and dwelled within the caves of the Vindhya mountains. Markandeya advised that anyone seeking answers should approach these birds and ask their questions. Hearing this, Jaimini, the tiger among sages, was struck with astonishment and replied, “O Brahman, this is truly wondrous—that birds can speak as humans do, and that your birds have attained such rare and precious knowledge. If they are born among animals, how did they acquire such wisdom? And how are the sons of Drona spoken of as birds? Who is this renowned Drona, whose four sons are born with virtue and knowledge of dharma, and are called great souls?” Markandeya responded, “Listen attentively as I recount what once happened in Nandana, at the meeting of Shakra, the lord of the gods, and Narada. In the celestial garden of Nandana, Narada saw Shakra, king of the gods, surrounded by courtesans, his gaze fixed upon their faces. As soon as Shakra saw the eminent sage, he rose and respectfully offered Narada his own seat. The divine women, seeing the mighty slayer of Vritra rise, bowed to him and to Narada, standing with humility. Honored by their gestures and seated beside Shakra, Narada exchanged proper greetings and engaged in delightful conversation. Then, in the midst of their talk, Shakra addressed the great sage, saying, ‘Give your command as to which of these dancers you desire—Rambha, Karkasha, Urvashi, Tilottama, Ghritachi, Menaka, whichever pleases you.’ Narada, considering Shakra’s words, spoke to the apsaras who stood there with humility: ‘Among you, whichever considers herself superior in beauty, generosity, and qualities, let her dance before me. For one lacking in virtue and beauty, success in dance is not possible; just as a dance without proper foundation is mere imitation.’ At that very moment, each one of them bowed and declared, ‘I am superior in qualities, not you; nor are you,’ thus did each claim precedence. Seeing their agitation, the blessed wielder of the thunderbolt said, ‘Let the sage be asked; he will declare which of you is superior in qualities.’ Questioned thus, following Indra’s wish, the sage Narada spoke: ‘She among you who can forcibly disturb the great sage Durvasa, who is engaged in austerity atop the mountain, I consider her superior in qualities.’ Hearing these words, all their necks trembled; ‘This is impossible for us,’ they whispered among themselves. Yet, an Apsaras named Vapu, proud of her power to disturb sages, replied, ‘Today I will go to where that sage is residing. With the help of the god of love, whose arrows drip with the essence of passion, I will make that sage, the subduer of the senses, yield. Whether it be Brahma, Janardana, or even the blue-throated one, today I would make even them wounded by the arrows of desire.’ Having said this, Vapu journeyed to the snowy mountain, to the hermitage of Durvasa, where his austerity had brought peace even to the wild beasts. Where that great sage dwelt, sweet as the song of the male cuckoo, the excellent Apsaras stood a short distance away and began to sing. Hearing the sound of her song, the sage, his mind astonished, went to where the beautiful-faced maiden was. Seeing her, lovely in every limb, Durvasa restrained his mind, recognizing her intent to disturb him, and was filled with anger and indignation. The great sage, possessed of immense austerity, spoke to her: ‘Because you have come here, O sky-roaming one, maddened by pride, to hinder my hard-won austerity, you have caused me suffering. Therefore, tainted by my wrath, you will be born in the race of birds, O foolish one, for sixteen years. Abandoning your own form, assuming the shape of a bird, you will have four sons, O lowest of Apsarases. Without finding joy among them, purified by this ordeal, you will again attain residence in heaven; you must not speak a word in reply.’ Having pronounced this unbearable curse, his eyes red with anger, the sage departed, leaving the trembling, proud Vapu behind. Her mind agitated like the waves of a restless river, she took birth among the birds, famed for their many virtues. Now, in the Treta age, there was once a royal sage named Harishchandra, a ruler of the earth whose noble fame shone forth, steadfast in righteousness. During his reign, there was neither famine nor disease, nor untimely death among people, nor were the citizens inclined toward unrighteousness. None were intoxicated by wealth, strength, or asceticism; and no women were born who had not attained youth. One day, that mighty-armed king, while pursuing a deer in the forest, repeatedly heard the cries of women calling, ‘Save us!’ Abandoning the deer, the king spoke, ‘Do not fear! Who, while I rule, would act with such wickedness and injustice?’ Following the sound of their cries, he encountered the cause of all obstacles—a fierce being—who began to ponder.