Anasuya, steadfast in her devotion, spoke with a heart full of faith: “As I have always served my husband with constant effort in deed, thought, and word, so too may this Brahmin live on.” At her words, the Brahmin who had lain stricken was suddenly restored—he rose up, freed from all illness, youthful once more, his very presence illuminating the house with a radiant glow, like an immortal child among the gods. In that sacred moment, a shower of celestial flowers fell from the sky, and divine music resounded through the air. The gods themselves rejoiced, and their voices rang out as they addressed the virtuous Anasuya: “O blessed one, choose a boon! You have accomplished a great task for the gods. Therefore, O ascetic, we, the gods, grant you a boon.” Anasuya, humble yet resolute, replied, “If the gods, led by the Grandfather, are pleased with me, and if I am deemed worthy to receive a boon, then let Brahma, Vishnu, and Maheshvara become my sons. And may I, together with my husband, attain yoga for the sake of freedom from suffering.” The gods—Brahma, Vishnu, Shiva, and the others—graciously replied, “So be it.” Honoring the ascetic woman, they departed as was proper, leaving the blessings of their words behind. — In another time, the two sons continued their tale: The prince, having journeyed swiftly, returned to his own city. Filled with longing to see his beloved Madalasa, he bowed at the feet of his parents. As he entered, he saw the people of the city anxious, their faces clouded with worry. But then, as if a veil had lifted, astonishment and joy brightened their faces. He watched as one citizen, eyes wide with delight, cried out, “By fortune! By fortune!” and embraced another in excitement. Blessings were spoken: “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 such voices, both before and behind, the prince entered his father’s house, and joy welled up within him at that very moment. His father embraced him, as did his mother and other relatives, all bestowing auspicious blessings and wishing him a long life. Bowing low and filled with wonder, the prince asked his father about the cause of these happenings. His father then told him everything as it had occurred. Upon hearing that his beloved wife Madalasa had died, and seeing his parents before him, the prince was overwhelmed by a sea of shame and grief. He thought, “That young woman, hearing of my death, 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!” Yet, steadying his mind, he cast off the surge of delusion, though sighs and deep breaths of distress escaped him. He reflected, “If, because of me, she died and gave up her life, what worthy deed have I done for her? Truly, this is praiseworthy among women. But if I, miserable, weep again and again, crying, ‘Ah, my beloved!’—even so, this is not praiseworthy, for we are men, after all. Or, dulled by grief, dejected, unclean and wretched, I would become a laughingstock for my enemies, a target for their scorn.” Resolute, he continued, “I must destroy the enemies, serve the king, my father; his life depends on me—how, then, could I abandon it? Yet, I think here the duty is to renounce the share belonging to the woman; and this too is not for her benefit, O slender one, but in every way. I must perform this act of compassion, not for reward or harm; she gave up her life for my sake—this small thing is for her.” Having made up his mind, the prince performed the water-offering for Madalasa’s sake, and after completing the subsequent rites, Ṛtadhvaja spoke: “If that slender-limbed woman, Madalasa, is not my wife, then in this life I shall have no other companion. Except for her, the fawn-eyed daughter of the Gandharva, I will not enjoy any other woman—this is the truth I declare. Leaving aside that elephant-gaited wife, who walks in righteousness, I will not accept any other—this is the truth I declare.” The sons continued: “Having renounced all pleasures with women, father, he lives, playing with his peers of equal virtue, without her. This is his highest duty, father! Who is able to accomplish it? It is extremely difficult to attain, even for gods, let alone others.” Jaḍa then spoke, saying that upon hearing these words, their father reflected deeply. After considering, he addressed his sons, the king of Nāgas, with a gentle smile: “If, knowing something is impossible, men do not act, then all effort and enterprise in action is lost, and that is the greatest loss. A man should undertake action, pouring forth his own strength; the outcome of action depends both on destiny and on human effort. Therefore, my sons, I will exert myself accordingly; undertaking austerity, I will strive so that this may soon be accomplished.” Thus resolved, the lord of Nāgas went to the sacred place Plakṣāvataraṇa on the Himavat mountain and performed severe austerities. There, with his mind focused, observing regulated food and bathing three times daily, he praised the goddess Sarasvatī with hymns. He prayed: “I wish to propitiate the auspicious goddess, the mother of the world; I will praise Sarasvatī, the source of Brahmā, bowing my head. O goddess, existent and non-existent! The true, the little, the liberating, the meaningful—everything that is not united with you, O goddess, is established as if by yoga. You are the imperishable, supreme goddess, in whom all is established; the imperishable, supreme, established as the ultimate atom. The imperishable, supreme Brahman, and this entire universe is of the nature of the perishable; fire abides in wood, and the ultimate atoms are in the earth.” Thus, with devotion and determination, the king of Nāgas sought the favor of the divine, upholding the power of effort and the sanctity of righteous action.