When Kacha returned, having mastered the secret knowledge for which he had journeyed, the gods, led by mighty Indra, came forth to greet him. With joy and reverence they honored Kacha, and in the presence of Brihaspati, they spoke: “O Kacha, you have accomplished a great and wondrous deed for our sake. Your glory will never fade, and you shall receive your rightful share.” Delight filled the assembly of gods when Kacha announced his success and the fulfillment of his mission. All the gods gathered together and addressed Shatakratu, saying, “Now is the time for your valor, O Purandara; rise up and vanquish our enemies.” Thus urged, Maghavan—another name for Indra—agreed to their request and set out. In the forest, he came upon a group of maidens at play, their beauty rivaling the enchanting gardens of Chaitraratha. At that moment, the wind, taking on a playful form, swept through the forest and scattered the garments of the maidens. Emerging together from the water, the maidens gathered up their garments, arranging them in various ways as they found them. Among them was Sharmishtha, daughter of Vrishaparvan, who, not realizing her mistake, took up the garment belonging to Devayani. This innocent confusion soon gave rise to a quarrel between Devayani and Sharmishtha. Devayani, distressed, rebuked Sharmishtha: “Why have you taken my garment, you who are my disciple, O Asuri? Lacking proper conduct, you will not attain any good. Your father, ever humble, sits and lies at my father’s feet, praising and questioning him with great propriety. You are the daughter of one who begs, praises, and accepts, while I am the daughter of one who is praised and gives, but does not accept. Why do you, unarmed, become angry with one who is armed? You are but a beggar, and though you may wish for retaliation, I do not regard you at all.” Hearing these words, Sharmishtha, anger burning in her heart, seized Devayani—who clung desperately to her garment—and, in her fury, cast her into a deep well before returning to her city. Believing Devayani to be dead, Sharmishtha departed, not looking back, her mind clouded by wrath. In time, King Yayati, son of Nahusha, happened upon that very place. Weary and thirsty from the hunt, he came to the watering spot, only to find the waters receded. There, he beheld a radiant maiden, her brilliance like a blazing flame amid the forest’s shadows. Moved by compassion, the noble king gently addressed her: “Who are you, lovely-faced maiden, adorned with shining jeweled earrings? Why do you sigh so deeply and sit in such meditation? How have you fallen into this well, hidden by grass and creepers? Tell me, slender-waisted one, whose daughter are you?” Devayani replied, “I am the daughter of Shukra, who by his knowledge revives the Daityas slain by the gods. Surely you do not recognize me. Here is my right hand, O king, with copper-colored nails. Lift me out, for you are noble in my eyes. I know you to be calm, powerful, and renowned; therefore, you ought to rescue me from this well where I have fallen.” Recognizing her as a Brahmin maiden, Yayati took her by the right hand and lifted her from the well. Having thus rescued her, the king addressed the lovely-hipped woman and then returned to his city. After Yayati’s departure, Devayani, wounded by insult and grief, spoke to her companion Ghurnika, who had returned: “Quickly, Ghurnika, go and tell my father everything. I will not return now to the city of Vrishaparvan.” Ghurnika hastened to the palace of the asura, and, trembling with distress, approached Kāvya—Shukra—and said, “Devayani has been killed in the forest by Sharmishtha, the wise daughter of Vrishaparvan.” Hearing these words, Shukra, his heart pierced with sorrow, hurried out in search of his daughter. In the forest hermitage, he found Devayani, embraced her with grief, and spoke: “All people meet happiness and sorrow as a result of their own actions. I think you have committed some fault, and this is the expiation for it.” Devayani replied, “Whether there is expiation or not, listen to what Sharmishtha, daughter of Vrishaparvan, said to me. She declared, ‘I am the singer of the Daityas.’ With eyes red from anger, she spoke harsh words: ‘You are the daughter of one who praises, who begs and receives, while I am the daughter of one who is praised and gives, but does not accept.’ Thus did Sharmishtha, her face full of pride, speak to me. She said, ‘If I am the daughter of one who is praised, and you are the daughter of one who receives, then I will appease Sharmishtha.’ So my friend spoke to me.” Shukra continued, “Vrishaparvan himself knows this, as do Shakra and King Nahusha; my power is divine, beyond duality, and inconceivable like Brahman. Know this, Devayani: the one who endures the harsh words of others conquers the world. He who restrains rising anger, as a skilled charioteer holds the reins of his horse, is truly wise—not one who merely holds the reins.” Thus, amidst sorrow and wisdom, the tale of Devayani and Sharmishtha unfolded, carrying lessons of humility, endurance, and the power of self-control.