Thus instructed, Indra set out and journeyed across the entire earth, searching everywhere for an unwed maiden. Yet, wherever he looked, he found that all the women he encountered already belonged to others. At last, his eyes fell upon an Abhira maiden, whose beauty was striking—her nose was fine, her eyes lovely. She was not a goddess, nor a gandharvi, nor an asuri, nor a serpent-woman, but a human girl, and yet there was none like her. Indra beheld her radiant form, so graceful that she seemed another goddess of fortune herself. Her mind and her beauty were both focused and refined; in her, every rare charm and grace found in the world seemed to have gathered. All the adornments upon her slender-waisted body only enhanced her splendor. Indra gazed upon her and thought, “If only she were a maiden, unattached.” He mused that no other god on earth but himself could have acquired such merit as to find this jewel among women, destined for a blessed ancestor. He wondered if she might be passionate, for then his quest would be fulfilled. Her complexion was the hue of a blue cloud, her radiance like a golden lotus, her lips as red as coral. Her limbs shone with light, her hair, cheeks, and lips fresh as a budding flower on the tree of love and longing. Desire had scorched her heart, and her eyes flashed with fiery glances. Indra marveled at the Creator’s handiwork, wondering how such beauty could be fashioned without equal. If indeed she was created by the Creator’s own skill, then surely the path of artistry reached its height in her. As Indra gazed, he delighted in the sight of her shapely breasts—though he thought them not extraordinary, who could remain unmoved at their sight? Her lips were marked by passion, and yet, Indra reflected, for one who served her, peace would be granted. Even the slight crookedness in her locks brought pleasure, for in great beauty, even flaws become virtues. Her adorned eyes stretched toward her ears, and those wise in such matters say that consciousness arises from cause—here, the eyes served as ornaments for the ears, and the ears for the eyes. There was no need for earrings or collyrium, for her natural beauty outshone all adornments. Sidelong glances, he thought, should not be divided in the heart. Indra wondered about those connected to her—how could they bear sorrow, when every transformation in her only increased her loveliness? In his old age, after so many moments, he had at last seen such wealth of beauty. This, he thought, was the very boundary of Kauśalya, revealed by the Creator in the form of this maiden. She stirred the minds of men with affection and playful gestures, and Indra reflected that even the brilliance of the gods was outshone by her beauty. His own body broke out in goosebumps as he gazed upon her, radiant as new gold, her eyes long and shaped like lotus petals. Among all the goddesses, yakṣas, gandharvis, serpent-women, and demons he had seen, none compared to her in perfection. Whatever was foremost in the three worlds, the Creator seemed to have gathered and established in her form. At last, Indra approached her and asked, “Who are you, whose daughter are you, and from where have you come, beautiful-browed one? Tell me, why do you stand alone in the middle of the street?” He told her that the ornaments she wore were not for her adornment; rather, she herself was the adornment for them. No goddess, nor gandharvi, nor asuri, nor serpent-woman, nor kinnari he had seen before had eyes as beautiful as hers. Indra asked her repeatedly, but she did not answer. At last, trembling and modest, the maiden spoke to Śakra, “O hero, I am a cowherd girl, and here I sell cow’s milk, pure butter, curd, and whey. With curd, buttermilk, and milk, O scorcher of foes, tell me what you desire—take whatever you wish.” Thus addressed, Śakra took her firmly by the hand and led the wide-eyed girl to where Brahmā was present. As he led her away, the maiden cried out to her father and mother, “O father, O mother, O brother, this man is taking me away by force! If you have any business with me, ask my father—he will surely give me to you, this is the truth I speak. What maiden would not desire a husband who is devoted and affectionate? My father is devoted to righteousness and would not refuse you anything. I will please him with my head bowed, and if he is satisfied, he will give me. Without knowing my father’s mind, how can I give myself to you? Righteousness is vast and would perish if I acted otherwise; therefore, I do not seek to please you. I will be under your control if my father gives me.” Thus speaking, Śakra led her before Brahmā, placed her there, and spoke on her behalf. He said, “You have been brought here, wide-eyed one; do not grieve, O splendidly beautiful woman.” Seeing this cowherd maiden, fair as a sacred cow and radiant with great brilliance, even Kamala, the goddess of fortune, regarded her as an equal. Her eyes were like blue lotuses, her full breasts shone like pure gold, her thighs were shaped like the trunks of intoxicated elephants, and her nails glowed crimson and bright. Seeing her, Kamala herself felt surpassed, her mind captivated. With the thought of attaining her, Kamala seemed as if her heart had departed, while the cowherd maiden too considered herself superior in the matter of giving. The maiden thought, “If he desires to take me because of my beauty, then there is no woman on earth more fortunate than I. I have been brought by him and have come within his sight. To be abandoned by him would be death, but to be accepted would be the joy of life.