When Yayāti married Devayānī, Śukra, her father, gave him a solemn instruction: “This daughter of Vṛṣaparvan—Śarmiṣṭhā—must never be summoned by you to your bed.” This command echoed in Yayāti’s heart, for it was spoken with the gravity of a sage’s word. Yet, Śarmiṣṭhā herself addressed the king, seeking to clarify matters of truth and righteousness. She explained, “O king, words spoken in jest do not cause harm, nor do they among women, at the time of marriage, in mortal danger, or when all wealth is lost. In these five situations, falsehood is said to be without sin.” She pointed out that people sometimes speak untruths as witnesses, and their words may not always align with reality. Still, when united in purpose, a falsehood can indeed harm truth. Śarmiṣṭhā reminded Yayāti of the king’s unique duty: “A king is the authority among beings, and if he speaks untruth, he perishes. Even when pressed by hardship or the lure of wealth, he must not resort to falsehood.” She reflected on the nature of marriage, saying, “Two views are held, O king: a husband is both friend and lord. Marriage is said to be a union of equals; you are my friend because you are my husband.” She then revealed her own vow: “It is my dharma to give to one who asks. You ask me for pleasure—tell me, what should I do for you?” With humility, she pleaded, “Save me from unrighteousness, O king, and establish righteousness. Through you, may I bear children and practice the highest dharma.” She explained that wife, servant, and son possess no wealth of their own; whatever they acquire belongs to the one they serve. “I am to be enjoyed by you, O Bhārgava, and am under your control. Both Devayānī and I must be maintained by you; accept me.” Hearing her words, Yayāti acknowledged their truth and honored Śarmiṣṭhā, upholding righteousness. He united with her, fulfilling his desire, and after mutually honoring each other, they departed as they had come. In time, Śarmiṣṭhā, the beautiful-browed daughter of Vṛṣaparvan, conceived from that union, and eventually gave birth to a radiant son who seemed to possess the brilliance of the sun. When news of the prince’s birth reached Devayānī, her heart was troubled with anxious sorrow regarding Śarmiṣṭhā. She approached her and asked, “Why have you, beautiful-browed, acted wrongly out of desire?” Śarmiṣṭhā replied, “A certain sage, righteous and learned in the Vedas, came to me. I requested a boon from him, in accordance with dharma. I do not act out of desire unrighteously, O pure-smiled one. My child is from the sage; I speak the truth to you.” Devayānī accepted this, saying, “Let it be so, Śarmiṣṭhā; I bear no anger. If you have obtained offspring from a superior and elder twice-born, it is well. But if this is so, O timid one, who is this twice-born? Tell me his lineage, name, and origin.” Śarmiṣṭhā replied, “Radiant with vigor and brilliance like the sun, I had no power to question him.” The two women laughed together, and Bhārgavī, knowing the truth, returned to her own dwelling. King Yayāti then begot two sons with Devayānī: Yadu and Turvasu, who shone like Indra and Viṣṇu. From Śarmiṣṭhā, daughter of Vṛṣaparvan, three sons were born: Druhyu, Anu, and Pūru. Later, Devayānī and Yayāti went together to a lush green forest. There, Devayānī saw boys of divine appearance, playing freely, and, astonished, she asked, “Whose children are these, O king? They resemble sons of the gods and look so much like you.” She questioned the boys as well: “What are your names and lineages? Is your father a brāhmaṇa?” She urged them to speak the truth. Guided by a local woman, the boys brought her to the king. They said, “Śarmiṣṭhā is our mother.” Together with the king, they approached Devayānī. But Yayāti did not welcome them in her presence, and as the boys wept, they returned to Śarmiṣṭhā. Seeing the boys’ affection for the king and understanding the truth, Śarmiṣṭhā spoke to Devayānī: “Though subject to me, why did you do what displeased me? You have followed the conduct of demons—do you not fear?” Śarmiṣṭhā maintained, “What the sage said is true, O lovely-smiling one. Acting justly and righteously, I do not fear you. When the king was chosen by you, he was also chosen by me; for the husband of a friend, by righteousness, becomes one’s own husband. You are to be honored and respected by me, foremost among brāhmaṇīs, but the royal sage is to be revered even more—do you not know this?” Devayānī, deeply wounded, said to Yayāti, “O king, I will not stay here today; you have wronged me.” With tearful eyes, she rose suddenly and set out for her father’s house, grief-stricken. Yayāti, distressed, followed her, trying to appease her, but she did not turn back, her eyes red with anger and full of tears. At last, Devayānī, saying nothing to the king, reached her father Kāvya Uśanas. She stood before him, offering her respects, and Yayāti, too, honored the great Bhārgava sage.