Before Puru was chosen.
Before Yayati was cursed.
There was a story of two women — whose rivalry would shape the fate of kings yet unborn.
One was Devayani, daughter of the great sage Shukra, master of divine knowledge and adviser to the asuras.
The other was Sharmishtha, princess of the daityas — proud, fierce, and royal by blood.
They were once companions. Friends in youth.
But power and pride can turn even closeness into war.
One day, the two young women went with their attendants to bathe in the forest. They removed their clothes, placing them by the riverbank, and entered the cool waters, laughing like sisters.
But as they bathed, a gust of wind blew across the trees. Their garments were scattered, mixed together.
Devayani, believing herself the higher-born, picked the richer clothes and adorned herself first. But they belonged to Sharmishtha.
The daitya princess saw this and could not contain her rage.
"You, a Brahmana's daughter, wear the garments of a princess?" she said.
"Do not forget your place."
Devayani's pride flared equally.
"It is not birth but wisdom that defines worth."
Words turned to insults. Insults turned to violence.
Sharmishtha, in blind fury, struck Devayani and pushed her into a dry well — leaving her there, wounded, forgotten, humiliated.
Time passed. The sun dipped. The forest grew quiet.
But fate intervened.
A prince, Yayati, passed through the forest during a hunt. Hearing faint cries, he came upon the well and saw a young woman trapped within.
He helped her out, offering water and dignity.
She looked at him, her pride unbroken despite the mud on her skin.
"You have saved me," she said. "Now you must marry me."
Yayati was stunned. "You are a Brahmana's daughter," he replied, "and I am a Kshatriya. Such a union may not be proper."
But Devayani's eyes did not waver.
"I am the daughter of Shukra, the greatest sage alive. If you refuse, you insult not just me, but the one who gives life to kings and asuras alike."
Yayati bowed and left in silence, but the seed had been planted.
Devayani returned home and told her father everything. Her disgrace. Sharmishtha's violence. Her demand that only Yayati be her husband.
Shukra's fury was deep, but controlled. He went to the daitya king, Vrishaparva, and spoke plainly.
"If Devayani is not honored, I will withdraw my favor. No asura shall win a war without me."
The daitya king trembled. Devayani was restored to status. Sharmishtha was made her servant — a punishment that burned like iron.
And in time, Devayani married Yayati.
But Sharmishtha still lived in the same palace. Still moved through the same halls.
Still carried the fire of her humiliation in silence.
A fire that would one day give birth to sons.
And a rivalry that would outlive both women — through their children, through their blood.
Through a curse that would echo through the Mahabharata.