Hearing the words addressed to her, and honoring Anasuya, the revered wife of sage Atri, with due respect, the Brahmani replied with humility and gratitude. “I am truly blessed, favored by fortune, and even the gods themselves must look kindly upon me, for you, O naturally auspicious one, have renewed and strengthened my faith. I know well that for women, there is no path greater than devotion to the husband; his affection brings benefit both in this world and the next. By her husband’s favor, a woman finds happiness in this life and beyond, for indeed, the husband is the very deity for his wife. “Therefore, O greatly fortunate Anasuya, since you have come to my home, tell me what I can do for you. Noble lady, what is your wish?” Anasuya replied, “These gods, along with Indra, have come to me in distress, deprived of their share of meritorious deeds because of your situation—both day and night. They continually beg for the uninterrupted course of day and night as before. It is for this reason that I have come—please listen to my words. Because the days have ceased, all sacrificial rites have come to a halt, and without those offerings, O ascetic, the gods do not receive their nourishment. With the cessation of day, all actions come to an end; and from that, due to the lack of rain, the world itself faces destruction. “Therefore, if you wish to rescue the world from calamity, O virtuous one, be gracious—let the sun sustain the worlds as before.” The Brahmani answered, “By the curse of Mandavya, O noble lady, my husband, the lord, was condemned in anger: ‘Without sunrise, you will meet your end.’” Anasuya replied gently, “If it pleases you, O blessed one, then at your request I shall restore things as they were before and grant you a new husband. For in every way, O lovely one, I honor the greatness of women, especially the devotion of the faithful wife.” When the Brahmani consented, the ascetic Anasuya performed her rites. On the tenth night, she invoked the Sun, offering arghya even in the darkness. At once, the blessed Sun, Vivasvat, radiant like a blossoming red lotus, ascended the mountain king with his great orb, bringing light back to the world. But as the sun rose, the Brahmani’s husband’s life ended—he fell to the ground, and she caught him as he was falling. Anasuya comforted her, “Do not grieve, O blessed one! Witness my power—by serving your husband, what fruit of austerity have you not gained? As I have never seen any man equal to my husband in beauty, character, wisdom, or sweetness of speech, by that truth, may this Brahmin be freed from disease, become youthful again, and live a hundred years with his wife. As I see no deity equal to my husband, by that truth, may this Brahmin regain youth and health. As my constant effort in deed, thought, and word has been to serve my husband, so may this Brahmin live on.” At once, the Brahmin rose up, freed from disease, youthful again, illuminating his home with his own radiance—like an immortal child among the gods. Then a shower of flowers fell from the heavens, divine music resounded, and the gods rejoiced. They spoke to Anasuya: “Choose a boon, O blessed one! You have accomplished a great task for the gods; therefore, O ascetic, the gods grant you a boon.” Anasuya replied, “If the gods, led by the Grandfather, are pleased with me, and if I am worthy to receive a boon and am regarded favorably by you all, then let Brahma, Vishnu, and Maheshvara become my sons, and may I attain yoga together with my husband, for freedom from suffering.” The gods—Brahma, Vishnu, Shiva, and the others—replied, “So be it,” and, honoring the ascetic woman, they departed as was proper. — In another time and place, the two sons spoke: The prince, having swiftly reached his own city, bowed at the feet of his parents, his heart longing to see his beloved Madalasa. As he entered, he saw the people anxious, their faces joyless; then, all at once, astonishment and joy lit up their faces. He saw one person, eyes wide with delight, exclaiming again and again, “By fortune! By fortune!” and embracing another in great excitement. The people cried out, “Long life to you, O greatly blessed one! Your enemies are slain. Gladden the hearts of your parents and remove our troubles as well.” Surrounded by citizens speaking thus, both before and behind, he entered his father’s house, joy welling up in his heart at that very moment. His father embraced him, as did his mother and other relatives, all offering auspicious blessings and wishing him a long life. Then, bowing down and amazed, he asked his father, “What is this?” And his father recounted everything in detail. But when he heard that his beloved wife Madalasa had died, and saw his parents before him, he was overcome by a sea of shame and grief. He thought, “That young woman, hearing that I had died, gave up her life—virtuous one! Shame on me, with my harsh heart. I am cruel, I am ignoble, living without her, the doe-eyed one, who died because of me—how utterly pitiless I am!” Steadying his mind, he reflected further, quickly casting off the surge of delusion, though sighing and breathing deeply in distress. “If, because of me, she died and gave up her life, what worthy deed have I done for her? This is truly praiseworthy among women. If I, miserable, weep again and again, crying, ‘Ah, my beloved!’—even so, this is not praiseworthy, for we are men, after all.