Jaratkaru, the great ascetic, stood before his ancestors, offering them the fruit of all his hard-earned austerities. “If you so wish,” he said with humility, “let all my ascetic merit save you. Let it be as you desire.” But the ancestors, suspended in a terrible plight, replied, “How is it that you, a celibate, seek to rescue us? Even the highest asceticism of a foremost Brahmin cannot remedy this. O best of speakers, tell us—does austerity truly bear fruit or not? Because our lineage is ending, we are falling into an impure hell, O Brahmin.” They continued, “Our grandsire declared that progeny is the highest duty. Yet here we are, O father, left in uncertainty, without guidance or knowledge. You, renowned across the world for your manliness, are not recognized by anyone. We, your ancestors, are to be pitied and are deeply afflicted by this.” One ancestor, moved by compassion, spoke further: “Listen, O twice-born. We are known as the Yāyāvaras, sages devoted to strict vows. Cast down from the world by the destruction of our lineage, our severe austerity is lost, for we have no descendants. Today, only one descendant remains—and even he is as good as lost; poor among the unfortunate, he alone practices austerity.” “He is called Jaratkaru, accomplished in the Vedas and their branches, self-controlled, great-souled, firm in his vows, and immense in his penance. Yet it is his greed for austerity that has brought us to this distress—he has neither wife nor son nor any relative. Therefore, we hang over this pit, our consciousness lost, like those without support. He must be told, for you have seen us in our helpless state.” “Your ancestors depend on you, O noble one, hanging over the pit, dejected and downcast. Take a wife and beget children, we entreat you. Only one thread of our lineage remains—a single ascetic, whom you see taking refuge at the grass-stalk. He is our family’s pillar, sitting here as the increaser of our line; those roots you see are his shoots. These, O father, are our lineages, consumed by time; and what you see, O Brahman, is the root half-eaten.” “Where we hang over the pit, even that one is engaged in austerity. The mouse you see is mighty Time itself, slowly gnawing at that weak ascetic—Jaratkaru, greedy for penance, dull-minded and senseless. His austerity will not save us, for we are uprooted, fallen, and our minds afflicted by Time.” “See us, who have entered below, as wrongdoers; when we fall here, all our kin will fall with us. When that one, too, is cut off by Time, he will go to hell from here, regardless of austerity, sacrifice, or any other great purification. None of that, dear one, is considered by the virtuous to be equal to the continuation of the lineage. Therefore, upon seeing him, you should speak to that ascetic Jaratkaru.” “As you have witnessed this, you must fully relate it, so that he may take a wife and produce offspring as is proper. Or, O Brahmin, tell him this on our behalf, as one who is our protector, for the welfare of his kin here, as for his own family.” Then, with deep curiosity, they asked, “Who are you, O best of beings, who grieves for us as if you were our kinsman? We wish to hear—who are you, standing here?” Hearing all this, Jaratkaru, overwhelmed with sorrow, spoke to his ancestors with a voice choked by tears. “You, my ancestors and forefathers, are truly my elders. Tell me what I must do to fulfill your dearest wish. I alone am Jaratkaru, your sinful son; let me bear the punishment for my misdeeds and lack of self-control.” His ancestors replied, “Son, by good fortune you have arrived here by chance. O Brahmin, why have you not taken a wife?” Jaratkaru answered, “This matter concerning my ancestors always weighs upon my heart. Being celibate, I would have sent my body to the next world. It was firmly resolved in my mind that I would not take a wife. Yet, seeing you hanging like birds, I am moved. My mind, O forefathers, was turned away from marriage by devotion to celibacy. But now, I shall do your will, without doubt.” He made a vow: “If ever I should obtain a maiden bearing my name, who comes forward of her own accord like alms, then I will accept her—but I will not maintain her. If such a situation arises, I shall enter into marriage; otherwise, I will not do so. This is the truth, O forefathers. From that union, a being will be born for your deliverance. May my ancestors remain eternal and undiminished.” Having spoken thus to his ancestors, the sage wandered the earth, seeking such a maiden. But, O Shaunaka, he could not find a wife, for he was old. Disheartened, having been urged by his ancestors, he went into the forest and cried out loudly in great distress. Quickly entering the forest, wise and intent on his ancestors’ welfare, he called out three times, “I ask for a maiden.” He proclaimed, “Let all beings here, both stationary and moving, and those that are hidden, hear my words. While I was engaged in severe austerities, my ancestors urged me, distressed by suffering and desiring the continuation of the lineage, saying, ‘Enter household life.’ For the sake of settling down, I wander the whole earth seeking a maiden in alms. Poor and afflicted by hardship, I have been instructed by my ancestors.” Thus, Jaratkaru, moved by the plight of his ancestors, set aside his vow of celibacy and earnestly sought a wife, hoping to restore his lineage and free his forefathers from their suffering.