The great sage Kṛṣṇa Dvaipāyana, equal in splendor to the sons of the gods, did not obey the queen’s command out of fear. Instead, he adorned a maidservant with splendid ornaments, making her resemble a celestial apsara. This beautifully adorned maid he sent to Kṛṣṇa Dvaipāyana. When the daughter of the king of Kāśī saw the sage arrive, she approached him. Having been permitted to enter, she honored the sage, serving him with respectful words, gestures, and by reverently touching his limbs. In secret, the sage enjoyed her company and was satisfied. He, steadfast in his vows, dwelled with her for a time. When he rose, he spoke to her, saying, “You shall become a mother. A noble child has entered your womb. He will be righteous in the world, and foremost among the wise.” Thus was born Vidura, son of Kṛṣṇa Dvaipāyana, and brother to Dhṛtarāṣṭra and the great Pāṇḍu. By the curse of the great-souled Māṇḍavya, Dharma himself was born as Vidura, one who knew the essence of right and wrong, and was free from desire and anger. Kṛṣṇa Dvaipāyana then reported all these events to Satyavatī—his delay, and the birth of a son by the maid. Having fulfilled his duty to Dharma, he again met his mother, announced the conception, and then vanished from that place. Thus, those born from Dvaipāyana in the field of Vicitravīrya, shining like children of the gods, increased the Kuru lineage. Janamejaya, full of curiosity, then asked: “What deed did Dharma perform that he incurred a curse? By whose curse was the great sage born in a śūdra womb?” The tale unfolded: There was a certain brāhmaṇa named Māṇḍavya, renowned and steadfast, a knower of all dharma, firm in truth and austerity. He wandered on pilgrimage, coming by chance to various holy places near villages, and there he established his hermitage. At the entrance of his hermitage, beneath a tree, the great ascetic stood with arms raised, absorbed in deep yoga, observing a vow of silence. While he was engaged in this great austerity for a long time, robbers who had stolen plunder came to his hermitage. Pursued by many guards, these thieves entered the sage’s dwelling and hid their stolen goods there. Out of fear, they concealed themselves before the guards arrived. Soon, the king’s men came to that place and saw the sage with the thieves. They questioned the ascetic, asking, “By which path did the robbers go, O best of the twice-born? Show us, so we may pursue them quickly.” But the sage, observing silence, did not utter a word—good or bad. The king’s men searched the hermitage and found the thieves hiding there, along with the stolen goods. Suspicion fell upon the sage, and restraining him, they brought both him and the thieves before the king. The king, not knowing the sage’s true nature, condemned him to death along with the thieves. Thus, the guards impaled the great ascetic on a stake. Even as he was impaled, the righteous sage did not die, though he remained there for a long time without food. He sustained his life and summoned other sages, enduring the pain at the tip of the stake, and continued his austerities. The other sages, distressed by his suffering, gathered together at night in the form of birds and questioned him, “O Brahmin, what sin have you committed that you suffer such pain and fear on the stake?” Māṇḍavya, that tiger among sages, replied, “By my own fault I must go; no one else has wronged me.” Eventually, the guards, seeing the sage still alive after many days, reported the matter to the king. The king, hearing this, went with his ministers to appease the sage, who was still impaled. Bowing to the sage, he pleaded, “Whatever wrong I have done to you out of delusion or ignorance, O best of sages, I beg your forgiveness. Please do not be angry with me.” The sage granted the king forgiveness, and the king had him taken down from the stake. Yet, when they tried to extract the stake, they could not remove it, so they cut it off at the base, leaving the tip inside him. Thus, with the stake still within his body, the sage moved about, thinking to himself, “I should carry a vessel for flowers.” By his intense austerity, Māṇḍavya conquered worlds that are difficult for others to attain. For this reason, he became known among people as Aṇimāṇḍavya. This great sage, knower of the highest truth, then went to the abode of Dharma. Seeing Dharma seated, he addressed the lord, “What is the wrongful deed, done by me unknowingly, for which I now suffer this result? Tell me the truth quickly; witness the power of my austerity.