Because they were born from the very nostrils of the divine, the twin gods came to be known as the Nāsaṭyās, the deities at the tip of the nose. In time, when the goddess truly realized this profound truth, she was filled with supreme satisfaction. With joy in his heart, Manu ascended to heaven, riding in a celestial chariot alongside his beloved wife. Yet even now, Sāvarṇi Manu continues his austerities upon the lofty heights of Mount Meru. Through the sheer power of his penance, Śani attained equality among the planets, while Yamunā and Tapatī returned to their forms as sacred rivers. Viṣṭhi, fearsome in nature, became established as Time itself. Manu Vaivasvata, the wise and righteous, had ten mighty sons. Of these, Ila was the first, established through a son-offering, followed by Ikṣvāku, Kuśanābha, Ariṣṭa, and Dhṛṣṭa. Nariṣyanta, Karūṣa, the powerful Śaryāti, Pṛṣadhra, and Nābhāga—these sons were both divine and human in their qualities. Having consecrated his righteous son Ila as king, Manu once more departed for ascetic practice, journeying to Puṣkara, that renowned forest of austerity. There, for the fulfillment of Manu’s purpose, Brahmā, the bestower of boons, appeared before him and spoke: “O descendant of Manu, choose a boon as you desire; may it bring you auspiciousness.” Manu replied to the divine, lotus-eyed, lotus-born Lord: “May all kings upon the earth in my lineage be joined with righteousness. May they be sovereigns, O master, by your grace, O lotus-born.” Brahmā granted his wish, saying, “So be it,” and then vanished from that place. Manu returned to Ayodhyā and ruled as before. One day, his own son Ila mounted his chariot, setting out to accomplish his purpose. He traversed the earth, journeying through all its islands and subduing the lords of the land. Drawn by destiny, Ila traveled to Śiva’s sacred grove, the great Śaravaṇa, famed for its wish-fulfilling kalpadruma creepers. There, Soma, Lord of the gods, adorned with the crescent moon, delights; and long ago, in that very place, he had made an agreement with Umā. The pact was this: “Whatever being bearing a masculine name enters this forest shall become feminine, all within a circle of ten yojanas.” Unaware of this divine agreement, King Ila entered Śaravaṇa and, in a single instant, was transformed into a woman—her form changed as swiftly as a stallion becomes a mare. All that Ila had accomplished as a man was forgotten in her new female body. Thus, she became known as Ilā, a woman of full, high, dense breasts, with prominent hips and thighs, eyes wide as lotus petals, a slender form, a face like the full moon, playful and dark-eyed. Her arms were long and full, her hair curled and dark, her body fine and graceful, her voice soft and gentle. Her complexion was both dark and fair, her nails slender and copper-colored, her brows arched like a bow, and she walked with the elegance of a swan. Wandering through the forest, the radiant Ilā pondered, “Who is my father or brother? Who will be my protector here? To whom am I given as wife? How many years have I spent on earth?” As she reflected thus, she was seen by Budha, the son of Soma, who was accompanied by women. Captivated by Ilā’s beauty, Budha, overcome with desire, sought to win her. He appeared distinguished, shaven-headed, carrying a water-pot and book, adorned with a bamboo staff, sacred thread, and spade. In the guise of a twice-born, with a topknot, sacred thread, and earrings, he was surrounded by young students seeking alms, carrying sticks, flowers, kusa grass, and water. At the right moment, Budha summoned Ilā to a pavilion beneath the trees, secluded within the forest. With a mix of agitation and gentle reproach, he addressed her: “Having abandoned the service of the sacred fire, where have you gone from my dwelling? Now your time for recreation is passing, O broad-hipped one; come, come! Why are you so anxious, and for what reason? This is the evening hour for recreation here; after applying ointment, adorn my house with flowers.” Ilā replied, “O possessor of austerity, I have forgotten everything—myself, you as my husband, and my family. Tell me, blameless one.” Budha spoke softly to her, radiant and slender: “You are Ilā, O beautiful one; and I am called Budha, known as a lover and learned in many ways. Born in a noble family, my father is the chief of Brahmins.” With these words, Ilā entered Budha’s home. The house was wondrous, filled with jeweled pillars and created by divine magic. Dwelling there, Ilā considered herself fulfilled, marveling, “Ah, what noble conduct! Ah, what great wealth and lineage! For me and for my husband as well—ah, what supreme beauty!” There, in that forest home as splendid as Indra’s palace, Ilā lived happily with Budha for a long time. Meanwhile, searching for the king, Manu’s sons led by Ikṣvāku journeyed to the vicinity of Śaravaṇa. There, they saw a splendid mare standing before them, shining with rays from jeweled ornaments, unsurpassed in beauty. Amazed, they recognized her as Candraprabha, the horse of their great-souled kin. They wondered, “How did this excellent horse come to take the form of a mare?” They turned to their priest, the son of Mitra and Varuṇa, and asked, “What is this strange thing?” Vasiṣṭha, best among those who know yoga, saw all with his eye of meditation and explained everything to them.