In the country of Gauḍa stood a city called Puṇḍra-vardhana. There lived two close friends, a weaver and a carpenter. Both were highly skilled in their crafts, and through their work they had earned enough wealth to live comfortably without keeping count of what they earned or spent.

They wore fine, colourful clothes, adorned themselves with flowers, chewed betel leaves, and used the fragrances of camphor, aloeswood, and musk. Each day they worked for nine hours, and when their work was done they dressed themselves well and went out together for recreation. They visited public squares, temples, theatres, gatherings, birthday celebrations, banquets, and other places where people met. At twilight they returned to their homes, and thus the days passed pleasantly for the two friends.

One day a great festival was held in the city. Everyone came out wearing the finest clothes and ornaments they could afford, filling the temples, squares, and other public places. The weaver and the carpenter also dressed in their best and joined the crowds.

As they wandered through the city, they caught sight of the king's daughter seated at a palace window, surrounded by her companions. She was young and radiant, with dark curling hair and a face as fresh and lovely as a newly opened lotus. Her beauty captivated everyone who saw her.

The moment the weaver saw the princess, it was as though the god of love had struck his heart with all five of his arrows. Though deeply overcome, he gathered his strength and hid his feelings. Somehow he made his way home, seeing nothing before his mind but the princess.

Breathing long, burning sighs, he fell upon his unmade bed. There he lay, thinking of nothing but the princess as he had seen her. Unable to find peace, he began to express his longing in verse:

"People say that beauty and goodness go together. But if she is so good, why does thinking of her cause me so much pain?"

"She has taken my heart. Yet another heart seems to suffer for her, while another is filled with love. How many hearts do I have?"

"Goodness is supposed to bring happiness. Then why does the goodness of my beautiful, doe-eyed beloved bring me only sorrow?"

"They say everyone cares for the place where they live. Yet you live in my heart and let it burn with longing. How can you do this to me?"

"Her dark curling hair, bright smile, and lovely face have taken away my peace. Wherever I look, I seem to think only of her."

"When will the day come when I may be by her side, and this restless heart of mine at last find peace?"

The weaver continued to lament, thinking of the princess. To him it seemed that her beauty had borrowed its charm from the moon, the blue lotus, and all the loveliest things in the world, while from him she had taken his heart. Thus his thoughts wandered through the night, and somehow morning came.

At the usual time the next day, the carpenter dressed himself and went to his friend's house. There he found the weaver lying upon his unmade bed, his limbs stretched out, breathing long, hot sighs, with tears in his eyes.

The carpenter sat beside him and asked what had happened. At first the weaver was too ashamed to speak. Seeing this, the carpenter said, "A true friend is one before whom you may speak freely, trusting him as you would your own mother. Why, then, do you hide your sorrow from me?"

The carpenter looked carefully at his friend and soon understood that no illness had brought him to this state.

"This is no fever," he said. "You are suffering from love. Tell me everything."

At last the weaver told him all that had happened, beginning with the moment he had seen the princess at the festival.

When he had heard the whole story, the carpenter said, "Friend, think carefully. She is the daughter of a king, while you are an ordinary craftsman. How can you hope to reach her?"

The weaver replied, "I cannot explain it, but my heart has chosen her. Surely such a feeling would not have arisen without some cause. When there is doubt, sometimes the heart itself shows the way."

The carpenter saw that his friend's love could not easily be turned aside. So he said, "Then rise, my friend. Bathe, eat, and cast away your despair. I shall devise a way by which you may meet the princess and find the happiness you seek."

Encouraged by his friend's promise, the weaver rose from his bed and returned to his daily duties.

The next day the carpenter came carrying a wonderful mechanical bird that he had made from wood. It was brightly painted in many colours and fitted with a clever arrangement of plugs by which its movement could be controlled.

The carpenter said, "Friend, climb upon this bird. When you place a plug in the proper place, it will carry you wherever you wish to go. When you remove it, the bird will come down. I have also learned that the princess sleeps alone on the upper terrace of the palace.

"Tonight, when everyone is asleep, dress yourself as Lord Vishnu with the things I have prepared for you. Mount this Garuda, fly to the palace, and descend upon the princess's balcony. What happens after that will depend upon you."

The weaver could hardly contain his joy. He spent the day preparing himself. He bathed and adorned himself with fragrant powders and ointments. He chewed betel, wore garlands and sweet-smelling garments, and placed a shining crown upon his head. When night had fallen and the city was asleep, he took on the appearance of Lord Vishnu, mounted the wooden Garuda, and flew towards the palace.

There he saw the princess alone upon the moonlit terrace. She was gazing at the moon, her own heart already touched by thoughts of love. Suddenly she looked up and saw a figure descending from the sky upon Garuda, appearing before her in the form of Lord Vishnu.

Startled, the princess quickly rose from her bed. Believing that Lord Vishnu himself stood before her, she bowed at his feet and said, "O Lord, what great fortune has brought you here? Tell me what you wish of me, and I shall obey."

The weaver answered in a deep and solemn voice, "Gentle one, it is for you alone that I have come. Though you now appear to be a mortal maiden, you were my wife in an earlier time and came into this world because of a curse. Until now I have watched over you and kept you from being given to another. I have come tonight so that we may be united once more."

The princess could scarcely believe what she had heard. What seemed impossible even in her happiest dreams now appeared to have come true. Trusting his words completely, she agreed to marry him in the Gandharva manner, by their own mutual consent.

From that time onward, the weaver secretly visited Sudarshana each night, and their affection grew stronger with every passing day. Before dawn he would take leave of her, saying, "I must now return to Vaikuntha." Then he mounted his wooden Garuda and flew back to his own house without anyone discovering his secret.