The maiden, her heart filled with gentle longing, spoke with clarity and resolve: “What maiden would not wish for a husband devoted to affection? My father, steadfast in righteousness, would never refuse you anything. I will approach him with my head humbly bowed; if he is pleased, he will give me to you. How can I give myself to you without first knowing my father’s will?” She continued, “Righteousness is vast and must be preserved; for that reason, I do not seek to please you on my own accord. If my father grants me to you, then I will be yours and under your care.” Hearing her words, Śakra gently took her and led her before Brahmā, presenting her with reverence and speaking on her behalf. “Do not grieve, O wide-eyed and radiant maiden,” Śakra consoled her. “You are splendid in beauty, fair as a sacred cow, shining with great brilliance.” Indeed, her eyes were like blue lotuses, her full breasts gleamed like walls of purest gold, and even Kamala, the goddess of beauty herself, saw her as an equal. Her thighs were shaped like the trunks of intoxicated elephants, her nails shone a vivid crimson; Kamala, beholding her, felt herself surpassed and her own heart captivated. The maiden, too, sensed her own worth and felt she was superior in the matter of giving herself. “If he seeks me for my beauty, then surely there is no woman on earth more fortunate than I,” she thought. “Now that I have been brought before him and am within his sight, to be abandoned would be death itself, 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 very form. Yet, any woman whom he favors is truly blessed. How much more so the one whom he embraces, for he is the very form of the universe, moving distinctly among all beings.” The beauty now concentrated in her was revealed by the source of the universe himself; her only comparison could be with Smara’s virtuous wife, or with the radiance of Kāma. “This sorrow is not caused by my father or mother, but by the fear of rejection. If he does not accept me, or even speak a little to me, then death, born of grief, will overpower me as I remember him. Though I am blameless as a wife, I would quickly perish in such a state.” She gazed upon his face, seeing the radiance of a pure lotus equaled only by the gems on his chest, and her mind became wholly absorbed in meditation. “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 you are not at fault, 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 marveled further: “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; only the conch of water resembles his conch-like ears. Even coral cannot compare to his lower lip; truly, nectar flows from within him, streaming forth without doubt. If I have performed any virtuous deed in hundreds of past lives, may its grace allow this man, whom I desire, to become my husband again.” While she was lost in such thoughts, Brahmā, prompted by the needs of the sacrifice, quickly spoke to Hari, saying, “This blessed goddess is named Gāyatrī, O Lord.” Hearing this, Viṣṇu replied 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.” Thus urged, Brahmā, the grandsire, took her hand without hesitation and 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 the priests well-versed in the Vedas. Brahmā himself, with a staff of udumbara wood and covered in a deerskin, shone with his own splendor at that great sacrifice. The Brahmins learned in the Vedas, together with Bhṛgu, began the sacrifice, performing the ritual as prescribed in the Vedas. That great sacrifice at Puṣkara lasted for a thousand ages. At this point, Bhīṣma, full of curiosity, inquired, “O best of twice-born, what wonder occurred at that sacrifice? How were Rudra and Viṣṇu present there, O best of gods? What did Gāyatrī, the daughter of the Ābhīra, do while established as wife? And what did the virtuous knowers do, having understood this? Tell me this story as it happened, as it was done by the Ābhīras and the Brāhmaṇas; I am greatly curious.” Pulastya replied, “O king, I will tell you all the wonders that took place at that sacrifice; listen with focused mind. Rudra performed a great wonder, having entered the assembly in a censurable form in the presence of the Brahmins. Viṣṇu did nothing, since he remained in a subordinate role, but the cowherd boys, aware of the loss of the cowherd maiden, did not approve. All the cowherd women likewise came to Brahmā; seeing her, girded with a belt and standing at the sacrificial boundary, her mother cried out, ‘O son!’ her father, ‘O daughter!’ all her relatives called, ‘O sister!’ and her friends, ‘O friend!’ They asked her, “By whom have you been brought here, O beautiful one with red-lacquered feet? Who has removed your garment, and who has dressed you in a woolen shawl?