Overwhelmed by distress and feeling weak, a woman turned to her sister for help, asking, “What shall I do, sister?” Her sister, who was with child, replied, “I am pregnant; after the birth, I will give you the child.” She advised her, “Meanwhile, stay at home and pretend to be pregnant. Live happily, and when the time comes, give my husband some wealth—he will give you the boy.” She added, “When the child is born, people will say he died at six months. I will raise the boy, coming daily to your house.” To test the situation, she suggested, “Offer the fruit to the cow; all of this has been arranged just so—such is the way of women.” In due course, the woman gave birth to a boy. The father quietly brought the child and secretly handed him to Dhundhuli, his wife. Dhundhuli announced to her husband, “A healthy boy has been born; joy has arisen for all, for Ātmadeva has begotten a son.” Ātmadeva, overjoyed, gave gifts to the twice-born and performed the proper birth rites. The house was filled with auspicious singing and music at the doorway. Yet, in front of her husband, Dhundhuli lamented, “There is no milk in my breast. Another has drawn out the milk, so how can I nourish the child?” She proposed, “But my co-wife, who has given birth, her child has died. Bring her here and keep her in the house—she will nourish your child.” All of this was done by the husband to protect his son, and the mother gave the child the name Dhundhukari. After three months, the cow that had received the fruit gave birth to a calf—beautiful in every limb, divine, spotless, and shining like gold. Seeing this wonder, the pleased brahmin himself performed the rites, and people gathered, marveling at the event. They exclaimed, “Behold, good fortune has arisen for Ātmadeva—a child has been born from the cow, and being divine in form, it is a marvel!” By the arrangement of fate, no one knew the secret. When they saw the child had ears like a cow, they named him Gokarna. In time, both sons grew to manhood. Gokarna became learned and wise, while Dhundhukari turned exceedingly wicked. Dhundhukari neglected bathing and purity, ate improper food, was devoid of restraint, 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, in cruel play, would throw children into wells. He was violent, carried weapons, oppressed the poor and the blind, 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 vessels for himself. His pitiable father, now destitute, cried aloud, “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 this moment, Gokarna, wise and compassionate, came to his father and showed him the path of detachment. He taught, “This worldly existence is insubstantial, full of suffering, and deludes the mind. 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 guided 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, engaged daily in service to Hari, attained Śrī Kṛṣṇa through recitation of the Tenth Canto. He came to reside 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. Rich in knowledge, wealth, and noble birth, he was free from pride and arrogance. After the father’s passing, Dhundhukari’s mother was severely beaten by her own son. He 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, free from sorrow and happiness, without enemies or friends. Dhundhukari remained at home, surrounded by five courtesans, performing extremely cruel deeds, his mind deluded by his attachment to their maintenance. One day, the courtesans, desiring ornaments, prompted him—blinded by lust and forgetting death—to leave 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 conspired at night, “He steals daily; because of this, the king will arrest him. After taking the wealth, the king will certainly kill him; therefore, to protect our interests, why should we not secretly kill him ourselves?