Bṛhaspati and Soma, beholding the extraordinary beauty of the young boy before them, both felt a deep longing to claim him as their own. The gods, perplexed by this situation and uncertain of the child’s true parentage, turned to Tārā for an answer. They addressed her respectfully, “Tell us the truth, O fortunate one: is this child the son of Soma, or of Bṛhaspati?” But when questioned in this way, Tārā, overcome with embarrassment, remained silent. Though the gods pressed her again and again, she would not reveal the truth. The boy, sensing the tension and about to curse her, spoke up with indignation, “Why, wicked woman, do you not tell me who my father is? Today, for your unjust shame, I will punish you, so that you never again speak with such excessive hesitation.” At that moment, the blessed Pitāmaha, the Grandfather of all, intervened and restrained the boy. He himself gently questioned Tārā, “Tell me, child, whose son is this—Soma’s or Bṛhaspati’s?” Thus addressed, Tārā, still ashamed, finally replied, “He is Soma’s.” Hearing this, Soma, the blessed Moon Lord, with his cheeks shining and breath quickened by joy, embraced the boy and exclaimed, “Well done, well done, child! You are wise.” He named him Budha. In time, Budha, as has been told, begot a son, Pururavas, upon Ilā. Pururavas grew to become a king of remarkable generosity, a great sacrificer, possessed of extraordinary brilliance, ever truthful, intelligent, handsome, and thoughtful. Due to a curse from Mitra and Varuna, the celestial nymph Urvashi resolved, “I must dwell among humans,” and thus she beheld Pururavas. Upon seeing him, Urvashi abandoned all pride and longing for heavenly pleasures, becoming wholly absorbed in him and drawing near. Pururavas, too, beholding her surpassing all women of the world in beauty, delicacy, charm, playfulness, laughter, and every other quality, became completely captivated by her. Thus, both became absorbed in one another, seeing nothing else and setting aside all other purposes. Emboldened by their mutual attraction, the king spoke to her, “O beautiful-browed one, I desire you; be gracious, for I bear affection for you.” Hearing his words, Urvashi, her modesty overcome, replied, “So be it, if you uphold my conditions.” The king then asked her, “Tell me your conditions.” When prompted, she explained, “Near my bed, my two lambs, who are like sons to me, must not be taken away. You must not be seen naked by me. My food must be only clarified butter.” The king agreed, “So be it.” Thus, Pururavas and Urvashi lived together for sixty years, delighting each day in ever-increasing joy, in the city of Alaka, in the forests of Chaitraratha and other beautiful places, among pure lotus groves and charming lakes such as Manasa. Urvashi, from her enjoyment of Pururavas, grew more attached to him with each passing day, and even while dwelling in the world of the immortals, felt no longing for her former celestial home. Without Urvashi, the world of the gods lost its delight for the apsaras, siddhas, and gandharvas. Then, one night, Urvashi, disregarding her agreement with Pururavas, conspired with Vishvavasu and the gandharvas, who stole one of her beloved lambs from beside her bed. As the lamb was being led away, Urvashi heard a sound and cried out, “My son, who is helpless, is being taken by someone; to whom shall I go for refuge?” Hearing her lament, the king thought, “If I go now, the queen will see me naked,” and so he hesitated and did not go. The gandharvas then took another drum and departed. As the second lamb was being carried away, Urvashi again heard the sound and cried out in even greater anguish, “I am helpless, without a husband, seeking shelter among the unmanly!” Her lament grew more desperate. Overcome by anger, the king thought, “This is darkness!” Seizing his sword, he shouted, “Wicked! Wicked! You are slain!” and rushed forward. At that moment, the gandharvas shone with a brilliance like lightning, illuminating the night. By their radiance, Urvashi saw the king without his garments, and realizing that the time had come, she instantly vanished. The gandharvas, abandoning both drums, returned to the world of the gods. The king, gathering the two lambs, returned to his bed, his heart full of joy, but Urvashi was nowhere to be found. He had also been seen by her without his garments, and now, distraught, he wandered about in a state of madness. Eventually, in Kurukshetra, at a lake filled with lotuses, he saw Urvashi again, together with four other apsaras.