Atmadeva, a pious brahmin, celebrated the birth of his son with great joy. He gave generous gifts to the twice-born, performed the traditional birth rites, and his home was filled with auspicious singing and music at the doorway. Yet, amidst this happiness, his wife, standing before him, confessed sorrowfully, “There is no milk in my breast; another has drawn out the milk, so how can I nourish the child?” She then suggested, “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.” Atmadeva, eager to protect his son, followed her advice. The child was named Dhundhukari by his mother. Three months later, a miracle occurred: the family cow gave birth to a calf, radiant and spotless, shining like gold, beautiful in every limb. Atmadeva, delighted and astonished, performed the birth rites himself. The townspeople gathered, marveling at this divine calf, and proclaimed, “Good fortune has arisen for Atmadeva—a child has been born from the cow, and, being divine in form, it is a wonder!” By fate’s arrangement, the secret of this birth remained unknown. Observing the child’s ears, which resembled those of a cow, they named him Gokarna. As time passed, both sons grew into young men. Gokarna became learned and wise, but Dhundhukari turned exceedingly wicked. He 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’ homes, and cruelly threw 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 association with prostitutes, he squandered his ancestral wealth. Once, after beating his parents, he stole their household vessels. 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, approached his father and gently instructed him on the path of detachment. He explained, “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, Atmadeva resolved to depart and 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 advised, “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, compelled by his son’s words, Atmadeva left his home, went to the forest with firm resolve at the age of sixty, and daily served Hari. Through the recitation of the Tenth Canto, he attained Śrī Kṛṣṇa. He resided in the celestial city, endowed with the splendor of the gods’ gardens, in the palace of Indra, 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. After Atmadeva’s passing, Dhundhukari’s wickedness grew. He severely beat his mother, demanding, “Tell me where the wealth is kept, or I will kill you with this stick!” Frightened and distressed, his mother threw herself into a well at night, ending her life. Gokarna, established in yoga, departed on pilgrimage, living 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 their maintenance. One day, the courtesans, desiring ornaments, prompted him—blinded by lust and forgetting death—to leave the house to obtain them. He gathered wealth from various places, returned home, and gave the women fine clothes, ornaments, and many things. Seeing the accumulation of 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?” Resolving thus, they bound him with ropes while he slept, killed him, took the wealth, and left for elsewhere. Placing a noose around his neck, they tried to kill him; though they acted quickly, he did not die and they became anxious. They threw heaps of burning coals into his mouth, and tormented by the extreme pain of the flames, he perished. The reckless women abandoned his body in a pit, and the secret of this was not known to anyone. When questioned by the people, they would say, “He has gone far away, for he is dear to us; he will return this year, drawn away by greed for wealth.” Thus, the wise are warned: one should never place trust in wicked women; the fool who relies on them is overwhelmed by suffering.