Once, a younger sister came of her own accord to visit her elder sister at her home. In her presence, the elder sister poured out her heart, confessing, “I am greatly troubled.” She spoke of her distress, saying, “I am weak from this suffering—what shall I do, sister?” The younger sister replied with sympathy, “I am pregnant; after I give birth, I will give you the child.” She then advised, “Meanwhile, stay at home and pretend to be pregnant yourself. Live happily, and give my husband some wealth—he will give you the boy. Let people think that your child died after six months, and I will take care of the boy, coming daily to your house.” The younger sister continued, “Now, just to test, offer the fruit you received to the cow. All this has been done in this way, as is the nature of women.” In due course, the younger sister gave birth to a boy. The father brought the newborn and, in secret, handed him over to Dhundhuli, the elder sister. Dhundhuli then announced to her husband, “A healthy boy has been born! Joy has come to all, for Ātmadeva has begotten a son!” In celebration, Ātmadeva gave gifts to the twice-born and performed all the birth rites; the house resounded with auspicious singing and music. Later, Dhundhuli said to her husband, “There is no milk in my breast; another has already drawn the milk, so how can I nourish the child? But my co-wife, who has just given birth, her child has died. Bring her here and keep her in the house—she will nurse your child.” For the sake of his son’s well-being, the husband did as she suggested, and the child was named Dhundhukari. Meanwhile, three months later, the cow to whom the fruit had been offered gave birth to a calf. This calf was beautiful in every limb, divine, spotless, and shone like gold. Amazed at this wonder, the pleased Brahmin performed the proper rites himself, and people gathered in crowds, eager to behold this marvel. They said, “Good fortune has arisen for Ātmadeva: a child has been born from the cow, and, being divine in form, it is a wonder!” By the arrangement of fate, no one knew the true secret of these events. Seeing that the child had ears like a cow, the people named him Gokarna. In time, both sons grew up. Gokarna became learned and wise, while Dhundhukari turned exceedingly wicked. Dhundhukari neglected bathing and purity, ate improper food, was devoid of anger, engaged in wrongful acquisitions, and even ate with hands defiled by corpses. He became a thief, hated by all, set fire to others’ houses, and, for play, would throw children into wells. He was violent, carried weapons, oppressed the poor and the blind, always consorted with outcastes, held a noose, and kept company with dogs. Through association with prostitutes, Dhundhukari squandered his ancestral wealth. Once, after beating his parents, he even took their household vessels for himself. His pitiable father, now destitute, cried out in misery, “Such a wicked son who brings suffering deserves to be killed! Where shall I stay, where shall I go, who will remove my sorrow? I will give up my life in this misery—alas, how wretched is my state!” At that moment, Gokarna, endowed with wisdom, came and instructed his father, showing him the path of detachment. He said, “Indeed, this worldly existence is insubstantial, full of suffering, and deludes. Whose son, whose wealth, whose affection truly burns constantly? There is no happiness even for Indra, nor for a universal monarch; happiness exists only for the dispassionate sage who lives in solitude. Abandon ignorance, which takes the form of attachment to offspring; through delusion comes the path to hell. This body will fall, leaving all—go to the forest.” Hearing these words, his father, wishing to depart, asked, “My child, tell me in detail what should be done in the forest. Bound in the dark pit by the snare of affection, I am lame, deceitful, and fallen through my actions—O ocean of compassion, please lift me up.” Gokarna instructed him, “Abandon your attachment to this body made of bones, flesh, and blood, and always give up possessiveness toward wife, children, and others. See that this world is ever fleeting and perishable—be one who delights in detachment and devotion. Constantly practice true dharma, forsake worldly duties, serve saintly persons, and renounce desire and craving. Quickly give up thinking of others’ faults and virtues, and deeply drink the nectar of service and sacred stories.” Thus, even though compelled by his son’s words, Ātmadeva left his home, went to the forest with firm resolve at the age of sixty, and, engaging daily in service to Hari, attained Śrī Kṛṣṇa through the recitation of the Tenth Canto. He resided in the celestial city, endowed with the splendor of the gods’ gardens, in the palace of Indra, directly built by Viśvakarmā, the abode of the fortune of the three worlds, together with all prosperity. He was rich in knowledge, wealth, and noble birth, yet free from pride and arrogance. When the father had passed away, the mother was severely beaten by Dhundhukari, who threatened her, “Tell me where the wealth is kept, or I will kill you with this stick!” Frightened by his words and distressed for her son, the mother, at night, threw herself into a well and met her end. Gokarna, established in yoga, departed on pilgrimage; he was untouched by sorrow or happiness, and regarded none as enemy or friend. Dhundhukari remained at home, surrounded by five courtesans, performing extremely cruel deeds, his mind deluded by the need to support them. One day, those courtesans desired ornaments. Blinded by lust and forgetting death, Dhundhukari left the house to obtain them. Gathering wealth from here and there, he returned home and gave the women fine clothes, ornaments, and various things. Seeing the accumulation of much wealth, the women said to each other at night, “He steals daily; because of this, the king will arrest him.