As the great event unfolded, the Rakshasi women, daughters of the Pitris, and other mothers of the worlds, together with brides and daughters-in-law, all expressed their desire to accompany Savitri. The Adityas and the daughters of Daksha gathered as well, and in their midst, the virtuous Brahmani—she who dwells among lotuses—set forth, surrounded by this noble assembly. Each brought offerings for the occasion: one carried sweetmeats, another a winnowing basket; a beautiful-faced woman bore a vessel brimming with fruit, and together they made their way toward Brahma. Some held containers filled with roasted grains, others carried pomegranates and splendid citrons. There were those who brought karira fruits, lotuses, kusumbhaka, cumin, and dates. The finest coconuts, vessels of grapes, and the srngataka fruit were also among their gifts. Fragrant camphor, auspicious rose-apples, walnuts, amalaki fruits, and lemons were carried by others. Ripe bilva fruits, cipiṭa, tufts of cotton, and garments of kusumbhaka cloth were brought as well. In this way, performing various acts with winnowing baskets and bearing these auspicious offerings, all the noble-faced women, together with Sāvitrī, arrived, radiating good fortune. Their arrival caused a stir. Seeing Sāvitrī, Indra was seized with fear. Brahmā stood with his head bowed, uneasy and wondering what she might say. Viṣṇu and Rudra, too, were filled with embarrassment, and all the other twice-born, the assembly members, and gods present felt a similar trepidation. Sons, grandsons, nephews, maternal uncles, brothers, and even the Ṛbhus—the very gods among gods—stood there in discomfort, pondering what words Sāvitrī would utter. She stood by Brahmā’s side, yet she was, in truth, a cowherd maiden. Savitri remained silent, listening to the words of those around her. Though summoned by the Adhvaryu, the priest, the woman of excellent complexion did not come forward. Another woman, brought by Śakra from the Ābhīras and given to Viṣṇu, had been approved by Rudra and given by her own father. The assembly wondered how this woman would participate in the sacrifice, or how the ritual could be completed. As they deliberated, the Lotus-born Brahmā entered, surrounded by assembly members, officiating priests, and gods. Fires blazed as Brāhmaṇas learned in the Vedas offered oblations. The cowherd woman stood in the wives’ pavilion, adorned with a girdle of sheep’s wool and clothed in linen garments, deep in meditation on the supreme state. Devoted to her husband, her very life centered on him, she was foremost among women—endowed with beauty, wide-eyed, and radiant like the sun. Her radiance illuminated the entire assembly, shining like the sun itself. The officiating priests approached the blazing fire, and as they joyfully took their portions of the sacrificial animals, the gods, eager for their share, spoke up, troubled by the delay. They said, “A sacrifice performed out of time should not be done, for what is done then bears no fruit; so the wise have seen in the Vedas.” At that moment, as the Prāvargya rite was being performed with two measures of milk and clarified butter by the Adhvaryu, the twice-born priests did not come when summoned. As the offering was being prepared, the goddess, seeing this, became angry. She turned to Brahmā, who stood silent in the midst of the assembly, and spoke: “O god, is this act proper, this thing you have done? Out of desire, you have abandoned me and committed a sin. This one whom you have made your wife is not even equal to the dust of my feet. Do as all the people assembled here in the council say, for they are like lords; act according to their command if you wish. Because of your desire for beauty, you have done what is condemned by the world; you have shown no shame before your sons or grandsons, O Lord. This act, done out of desire, is considered blameworthy; you are the grandsire of the gods and the great-grandfather of the sages. How did you not feel shame, seeing your own body, having done this disgraceful deed in the midst of the world? I, too, have been dishonored, O Lord. If this is your firm resolve, then remain, O god—I bow to you; but how shall I show my face to my friends? My husband has kept me as his wife—how can I speak of this?” Brahmā replied, “Urged by the priests, I came quickly after the consecration period; without a wife, the sacrifice cannot be performed here—bring a wife at once. She was brought by Śakra and given to me by Viṣṇu. I have accepted her, O fair-browed one; forgive me for what I have done. I will not commit any further offense against you, O virtuous lady. I fall at your feet—please forgive me, I bow to you here.” Pulastya, the sage, narrates that, thus addressed, Savitri’s anger flared and she prepared to pronounce a curse upon Brahmā. She declared, “If I have performed austerities, if my teachers have been pleased, then among all assemblies of Brahmins, in all various places, the Brahmins will never worship you, except for one annual worship in the month of Kārtika. All the twice-born on earth will perform only that worship and no other.” Having thus spoken to Brahmā, she turned to Śatakratu (Indra), who was present, and said, “O Śakra! You brought the cowherd woman to Brahmā; because of this petty act, you will reap its result.” Thus, in the assembly of gods and sages, Savitri’s words resounded, shaping the worship and destiny of Brahmā and those who had acted in this way.