The story unfolds with Indra, the best among the gods, overcome by anger. In his wrath, he pronounced a curse upon the beautiful apsaras, saying, "Go to the world of humans, deprived of your radiance." Shaken by Indra’s fury, the unfortunate apsaras fell down to earth. She lamented pitifully, crying out, "What wrong have I committed?" Her companions, the entire host of apsarases, were tormented by the fire of grief for her, mourning her fate. Just as a lotus flower does not shine beneath a cloudy sky while asleep, so too did she lose her radiant appearance. Yet, surrounded by her circle of friends, Rambhā was seen, her face still beautiful as the moon. The apsarases, overwhelmed by sorrow, were questioned: "Why do the best among you appear so afflicted?" Coming together, Rambhā asked, "Why are the best of the apsarases like this?" Her companions then recounted to her the ancient story behind their grief. With great care, a wise one explained to them a beneficial course of action: "Worship the Lord of gods, the liṅga that fulfills all desires." By the words of Urvaśī, Purūravas became her husband. In the beautiful, great Kāla forest, with the desire to worship the liṅga, Rambhā was assured, "O renowned Rambhā, you will obtain good fortune and the heavenly world." Therefore, she was told, "Go to heaven, honored by this assembly." Thus, the Lord of the apsarases became famous throughout the three worlds. Those who worship the Lord of the apsarases with devotion, and those who send others into the world for the sake of seeing Rambhā, are blessed. What use are gifts, austerities, or sacrifices with many offerings, compared to this devotion? "O goddess," he said, "this is the power of yours I have described, which destroys all sin." By merely seeing this goddess, conflict does not arise at all. She brings relief from all suffering and releases from all sin. Yet, even with her, a quarrel happened with me. When you, O beautiful one, daughter of the snowy mountain, withdrew from marriage, O lovely-faced one, you sat in the midst with hair dark as blue lotuses, curled and shining, radiant as black antimony. "O Kālī, beautiful one, beloved, sit by my side," I implored. Clad in serpents, O pure one, embraced by sandalwood trees, you were addressed by me, O goddess, O Girijā, with a lovely smile. When, for my sake, you sent forth those learned in the Vedas, you also entreated my father. And when you said, in distress for my sake, "Go, Nārada," your devotion was clear. This worldly saying is indeed true; it never proves false: the seeker must certainly obtain rejection, insult, and humiliation. For her, this disrespect from me is certain at every step. She is not of the mongoose lineage, not given to vain conduct, not wicked, nor envious. He who is not of noble lineage, who acts in vain, is always possessed by envy. May the blessed Sun, composed of twelve forms, recognize you. The god Pūṣā, the twelve-formed illuminator, knows you. That which was said of me as "Krishna," renowned as "Mahakala," was spoken for the sake of illustration, not out of hatred. Hearing this, you should forgive. Thus, the story reveals the trials, sorrows, and ultimate redemption of the apsarases, the wisdom of worship, and the enduring grace of the goddess, whose presence brings peace and destroys all sin.