When Kavya’s wife saw Devayani, her mind disturbed and troubled, she hurried to her husband and spoke with agitation: “O wise one, Devayani has been wronged in the forest. She has been harmed by Sharmishtha, the daughter of Vrishaparvan, O greatly fortunate one.” Hearing that his beloved daughter had suffered at the hands of Sharmishtha, Kavya—overcome with sorrow and haste—set out into the forest to find Devayani. There, upon seeing his daughter, he embraced her tightly with both arms, his heart heavy with distress. He tried to comfort her, saying, “All beings experience happiness and sorrow as a result of their own actions. I believe, my child, that some fault of yours has brought about this suffering.” Devayani, still shaken, recounted what had happened: “What Sharmishtha, the daughter of Vrishaparvan, said to me is indeed true. She spoke rightly—you are the singer among the Daityas. Sharmishtha addressed me with sharp and harsh words, her eyes red with anger. Though I, your daughter, always praised her, pleaded with her, and accepted her words, she accused me—saying that I neither praise nor accept when begged, that I am not one who is praised, but rather, the daughter of Devayani. Again and again, with pride and wrath, Sharmishtha, daughter of Vrishaparvan, spoke to me with bloodshot eyes. If, father, I, your daughter, should humble myself before Sharmishtha, who is praised and accepts, then my friend spoke thus to me. Yet, even after all this, in the lonely forest, she harshly subdued me, threw me into a well, and then went home, leaving me there. She said, ‘You are not the daughter who praises, nor do you accept when begged; you are the daughter of Devayani, not one who is praised.’ Vrishaparvan himself knows this, as do Shakra and King Nahusha: your power is divine, beyond thought, undivided and lordly. You know the science of life, father, eternal and certain, by which, O lotus-eyed one, the dead are revived. A virtuous person, after boasting of their own qualities, feels remorse; for this reason, I am unable to speak, though you know my strength. So let us return home, father. Forgive, O wide-eyed one, for forgiveness is the essence of the good. Whatever exists, whether on earth or in heaven, I am always the lord of that, as declared by the self-born, pleased with me. I release water for the welfare of beings; I nourish all plants—this I tell you truly.” Thus, when Devayani was overwhelmed by despair and pressed by anger, her father consoled her with gentle and sweet words: “Know, Devayani, that the one who always endures the harsh words of others conquers all. He who restrains anger that has arisen, as she does, is called a true charioteer by the wise—not one who merely holds the reins. He who dispels anger with non-anger, know, Devayani, that by him all is conquered. The one who casts off anger through forgiveness, as a serpent sheds its worn-out skin, is truly called a man. He who restrains his wrath, endures harsh words, and though afflicted does not burn within—he is truly a vessel of prosperity. He who performs sacrifices tirelessly, month after month for a hundred years, and he who never becomes angry and is friendly to all—among them, the one free from anger is superior. Therefore, the one without anger is best; desire and anger are to be condemned. For the angry, gifts, sacrifices, and austerities are fruitless. Thus, O gentle one, the fruit of sacrifice, austerity, and charity is truly great in the absence of anger; there is no doubt about this, never otherwise. Neither the ascetic, nor the austere, nor the sacrificer, nor the righteous—if they fall under the sway of anger, neither world is theirs. Son, servant, friend, brother, wife, righteousness, and truthfulness—all these certainly depart from one who is given to anger. When boys and girls, lacking sense, make enmity, the wise do not imitate them, for they do not understand strength or weakness. I know, dear one, even as a child, the distinction among dharmas here; I know the difference between anger and excessive speech, and also strength and weakness. One who does not follow his own conduct, who abandons true dharma, and whose behavior is unworthy of a disciple—such a one should not be tolerated by one seeking virtue. A servant or disciple who abandons his proper conduct becomes fruitless; therefore, I do not like to dwell among those of mixed behavior. Those who insult others by conduct or lineage—one seeking good should not live among the wicked-minded. But those who recognize him by conduct or lineage—among such virtuous people one should dwell; that dwelling is said to be best. Those who are always controlled by others, deprived of wealth, of bad conduct, evil deeds, and even wealthy outcastes—outcastes are not so by birth alone, but by actions prescribed by their own conduct; those attached to wealth, lineage, or learning, yet possessing outcaste behavior. They hate without cause and speak slander; among such, the virtuous do not dwell, for associating with the wicked leads to wickedness. Wherever a man becomes attached, whether to good or evil deeds, surely he finds delight there; therefore, one should not foster hatred. The harsh words spoken by Vrishaparvan’s daughter, Devayani, strike my heart like fire kindled upon wood.