In the course of time, the woman gave birth to a son. Her husband, desiring secrecy, took the newborn child and quietly entrusted him to Dhundhuli. Dhundhuli then informed her own husband, “A healthy boy has been born; joy has arisen for all, for Ātmadeva has begotten a son.” Greatly pleased, Ātmadeva distributed gifts to the twice-born and performed all the auspicious birth rites. The household was filled with joyful singing and music, celebrating the birth at the doorway. However, in her husband’s presence, Dhundhuli declared, “There is no milk in my breast; another has drawn out all the milk, so how can I nourish this child?” She continued, “My co-wife, who has just given birth, has lost her own child. Bring her here and let her stay in the house—she will be able to nurse your son.” The husband, eager to protect his child, did as she suggested. The child was thus named Dhundhukari. Meanwhile, three months later, the family’s cow gave birth to a calf—radiant, flawless, and golden in appearance, a truly divine sight. The brahmin, astonished and delighted, performed the proper rites for this extraordinary birth, and people from all around gathered, marveling at the wondrous event. They remarked, “Good fortune has come to Ātmadeva: a child has been born from the cow, and he is divine in form—a marvel to behold.” By the workings of fate, the true origin of the child remained a secret. Observing the child’s cow-like ears, everyone named him Gokarna. In time, both sons grew into young men. Gokarna became learned and wise, while Dhundhukari turned exceedingly wicked. Dhundhukari neglected bathing and purity, consumed improper foods, was devoid of anger, engaged in wrongful dealings, and even ate with hands defiled by corpses. He became a thief, despised by everyone, setting fire to people’s homes, and, in his cruelty, would throw children into wells during play. Violent and armed, he oppressed the poor and the blind, consorted with outcastes, carried a noose, and kept company with dogs. Through his association with prostitutes, Dhundhukari squandered his ancestral wealth. In his depravity, he even beat his parents and seized their household vessels. His pitiable father, left destitute and in despair, cried out, “Such a wicked son who brings only 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, approached his father and began to instruct him, illuminating the path of detachment: “This worldly existence is insubstantial, full of suffering, and deluding. Whose son, whose wealth, whose affection truly endures? Even Indra, king of the gods, or a universal monarch finds no happiness here; joy belongs only to the dispassionate sage who lives in solitude. Abandon ignorance, which appears as attachment to offspring; such delusion leads only to hell. This body will ultimately fall, leaving all behind—go to the forest.” Hearing these words, Ātmadeva, resolved to renounce, asked his son, “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 advised, “Abandon attachment to this body of bones, flesh, and blood. Give up possessiveness for wife, children, and others; realize that this world is ever fleeting and perishable. Delight in detachment and devotion. Constantly practice true dharma, forsake worldly duties, serve saintly persons, and renounce desire and craving. Quickly give up thoughts 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 with firm resolve at the age of sixty, journeyed to the forest, and, engaging daily in service to Hari, attained Śrī Kṛṣṇa through the recitation of the Tenth Canto. Thereafter, he resided in the celestial city, endowed with the splendors of the gods’ gardens, in the palace of Indra built by Viśvakarmā, enjoying all the prosperity of the three worlds. Ātmadeva was rich in knowledge, wealth, and noble birth, yet remained free from pride and arrogance. After his father passed away, Dhundhukari’s cruelty knew no bounds. He severely beat his mother, demanding, “Tell me where the wealth is kept, or I will kill you with this stick!” Terrified and distressed for her son, his mother, in the darkness of night, threw herself into a well and ended her life. Gokarna, steadfast in yoga, departed on pilgrimage, remaining untouched by sorrow or joy, without enemies or friends. Dhundhukari, meanwhile, stayed at home, surrounded by five courtesans, engaging in ever more cruel deeds, his mind deluded by his attachment to their company. One day, the courtesans, desiring ornaments, urged Dhundhukari to obtain them. Blinded by lust and heedless of death, he left the house to gather wealth. He returned with riches from various sources, lavishing the women with fine clothes, ornaments, and many gifts. Observing the accumulation of wealth, the women conspired among themselves at night: “He steals daily; because of this, the king will arrest him. After taking the wealth, the king will surely kill him. To protect ourselves, why should we not secretly kill him first?” With this resolve, they bound Dhundhukari with ropes while he slept, and attempted to kill him, taking the wealth and fleeing. Placing a noose around his neck, they tried to end his life, but he did not die easily, causing them anxiety. They then threw heaps of burning coals into his mouth; tormented by the searing pain, Dhundhukari perished. The reckless women abandoned his body in a pit, and no one knew the secret of what had happened.