The wise say that true mastery lies not in holding the reins of a chariot, but in restraining the anger that arises within—just as she does. That is the mark of a true charioteer. One who dispels anger with non-anger, Devayani, is the one who truly conquers all. He who casts off anger through forgiveness, as a serpent sheds its worn-out skin, is indeed called a true man. The one who restrains his wrath, endures harsh words, and though afflicted does not burn with resentment—he is a vessel fit for prosperity. Even if one were to perform sacrifices month after month, tirelessly for a hundred years, and another were to remain ever friendly and free from anger, it is the one without anger who is superior among them. Therefore, the one who is without anger is best; desire and anger are to be shunned. For those consumed by anger, gifts, sacrifices, and austerities bear no fruit. O gentle one, the fruits of sacrifice, austerity, and charity are truly great only in the absence of anger—never otherwise, of this there can be no doubt. 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 are lost to one who is given to anger. When boys and girls, lacking sense, make enemies of each other, the wise do not imitate them, for those children do not understand strength or weakness. Even as a child, dear one, I knew the distinction among dharmas in this world; I know the difference between anger and excessive speech, and also between strength and weakness. One who does not follow his own proper conduct, who abandons true dharma, and whose behavior is unworthy of a disciple—such a person should not be tolerated by those who seek virtue. A servant or disciple who abandons his proper conduct becomes fruitless; therefore, I do not wish 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 among those who recognize a person by conduct or lineage, among such virtuous people one should dwell; that is said to be the best dwelling. Those 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 that betray their own conduct. Even those attached to wealth, lineage, or learning, but who behave as outcastes, are truly outcastes. Such people hate without cause and speak slander; among them, the virtuous do not dwell, for association with the wicked leads to wickedness. Wherever a person becomes attached, whether to good or evil deeds, surely he finds delight there; therefore, one should not foster hatred. The harsh words spoken by Vṛṣaparvan’s daughter strike my heart like fire kindled upon wood. I do not think there is anything more difficult in all the three worlds than to serve, while lacking prosperity, the blazing fortune of a rival. The wise know that for such a person, death is preferable; for he suffers humiliation day by day through association with the lowly. Harsh words, once spoken, come forth from the mouth and wound the heart; a person grieves day and night, for they strike at another’s vital core. Thus, the wise never let harsh words escape their lips. A wound cut by weapons can heal, a burn from fire can heal, but a wound inflicted by words does not heal in the bodies of living beings. A wound pierced by arrows, a fresh cut by an axe, can heal, but a terrible, harsh word does not heal—the wound of speech does not close. At this time, Kavi, foremost among the Bhṛgus, approached, his heart filled with anger, and spoke thoughtfully to King Vṛṣaparvan, who was seated before him. “O King,” he said, “unrighteousness does not bear fruit at once, like a cow, but as it is turned over slowly, it cuts at the very roots of the doer. If not in one’s sons or grandsons, then surely in oneself, the fruit of sin is seen—just as food eaten by a teacher bears fruit in the belly. “O King, why did you have the Brahmin Kacha, son of Angiras, killed—he who was devoted to study, self-controlled, patient, sinless, learned in dharma, eager to serve, and attached to my household? And lord, Devayani was cruelly insulted by Sharmishtha with many harsh words, and, in anger, the high-minded girl was thrown into a well. “She is not fit to dwell with Sharmishtha; how can I, deprived of her, remain here? Therefore, O King, I renounce your realm. Because of the undeserved killing of Kacha and the harm done to my daughter, know this, Vṛṣaparvan: I will abandon you and your kin. I cannot remain in your realm, nor can I stay with you. “Do not grieve, Vṛṣaparvan, nor be angry, lord of men. I cannot remain in your realm without her. Her fate is my fate; what is dear to her is dear to me. Whether I kill a Brahmin or cry out in grief, if Sharmishtha has wronged Devayani, by that act I go to a bad end. “Alas, you think me, O Daitya, a speaker of falsehoods, since you do not restrain or correct this fault of yours, but disregard it.” Vṛṣaparvan replied, “O Bhārgava, I know in you neither unrighteousness nor falsehood. In you are both righteousness and truth; may you be gracious to us. If you, O Bhārgava, leave us and go from here, I will enter the ocean first, together with my kin. Or I will enter the underworld or fire; there is no other refuge. If you, lord of planets, go to the gods, abandoning me, then, having renounced everything, I will enter the blazing fire.” Kavi responded, “Enter the ocean, or flee to the directions, O Asuras! I am not able to bear any harm to my daughter, for she is dear to me. Let Devayani be appeased, for my life depends on her. I am your protector of welfare, as Brihaspati is for Indra.