In the midst of a great sacrifice, the Creator had gathered all that was foremost in the three worlds and established it in the form of a radiant maiden. Indra, beholding her with wonder, approached 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 gazed at her ornaments and marveled, realizing that they did not adorn her; rather, she was the adornment for them. No goddess, gandharvi, asuri, serpent-woman, or kinnari he had ever seen possessed eyes as beautiful as hers. Indra, persistent in his inquiry, asked again why she did not answer him. The maiden, trembling and modest, finally spoke to Śakra, saying, “O hero, I am a cowherd girl. I am here selling cow’s milk, pure butter, curd, and whey.” She continued, “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, mother, and brother, “O father, O mother, O brother, this man is taking me away by force.” She pleaded, “If you have any business with me, ask my father; he will surely give me to you—this is the truth spoken. What maiden would not desire a husband devoted to affection? My father, devoted to righteousness, would not refuse you anything. I will please him with my head bowed; if he is satisfied, he will give me. Without knowing my father’s mind, how can I give myself to you?” She declared, “Righteousness is vast and would perish; 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 for her sake. Śakra comforted her, saying, “You have been brought here, wide-eyed one; do not grieve, O splendidly beautiful woman.” The cowherd maiden, fair as a cow and radiant with great brilliance, stood before them. Her eyes resembled blue lotuses, her full breasts matched the purest gold walls, and Kamala herself regarded her as an equal. Her thighs were shaped like the trunks of intoxicated elephants, her nails shone crimson and bright; seeing her, Kamala felt herself surpassed and her mind was captivated. Both the maiden and Kamala considered themselves superior in the matter of giving, each with the thought of attaining the other. The maiden reflected, “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. If I am rejected, I would become a disgrace, a bringer of sorrow by my form; yet any woman whom he looks upon with favor is truly blessed. She is indeed fortunate, without doubt; how much more so the one whom he embraces, for he, the form of the entire world, moves distinctly among all.” She pondered, “That beauty, concentrated here alone, has been revealed by the source of the universe; her only comparison is with Smara’s virtuous wife, and with the radiance of Kāma himself. This sorrow is not caused by father or mother, but by rejection; if he does not accept me, or even speak a little to me, then death, born of grief, will overpower me from remembering him; and though I am blameless as a wife, I would quickly perish in such a state.” The maiden’s mind was absorbed in meditation as she gazed upon his face, whose radiance equaled the pure lotus and the splendor of the gems on his chest. She mused, “If you do not value the touch and union with his limbs, then, though you touch and move with him, your body is truly wasted. Or perhaps there is no fault in you, for you act according to chance; surely you have been robbed by Love—protect your own dear delight. By whose form, surpassing even you, Love himself is seen; by him, my mind, my precious jewel, and all my being have been firmly stolen.” She wondered, “The beauty seen in his face—how could it be found in the moon, marked by a hare? No comparison is ever praised for one so flawless. A lotus cannot match the equality of his eyes; the conch of water is the only comparison for his conch-like ears. Even coral cannot surely compare to his lower lip; truly, nectar flows from within him, streaming forth without doubt.” The maiden prayed, “If I have performed any virtuous deed in hundreds of past lives, by its grace may this man, whom I desire, become my husband again.” While she was absorbed in such thoughts, Brahmā quickly spoke to Hari for the sake of the sacrifice. “This blessed goddess is named Gāyatrī, O Lord,” Brahmā said. Viṣṇu then spoke to Brahmā, “Therefore, take her as your wife today, O Lord of the world, for I have given her to you; marry her by the gāndharva rite, and do not delay in making your decision.” Viṣṇu urged, “Take her hand today, O god, without hesitation.” Brahmā, the grandsire, married her by the gāndharva rite. Having obtained her, Brahmā spoke to the chief officiating priest, “She has become my wife; settle her in my house.” The young girl, adorned with deer-horn ornaments and veiled in linen cloth, was then led to the house of wives by priests well-versed in the Vedas. Brahmā, carrying a staff of udumbara wood and covered in a deerskin, shone in his own splendor at that great sacrifice.