In a splendid city, there lived a Brahmin named Vriddhakaushika. He had a son called Gautama, famed throughout the land as the foremost knower of the Vedas. Yet, because of a fault in his mother’s mind, Gautama’s nature grew contrary, even though he was twice-born. Despite his learning, he was restless and discontent. Gautama’s closest companion was a wealthy merchant named Manikuṇḍala. Their friendship was uneven—one was rich, the other poor—but each always sought the other’s welfare. One day, Gautama, in private and with great affection, repeatedly spoke to Manikuṇḍala: “Let us go forth to seek wealth, even if we must journey to mountains and oceans. Youth is wasted without the means for happiness; how can there be joy without riches? Alas, shame upon the man who is poor.” Manikuṇḍala replied, “O best of Brahmins, my father has earned me ample wealth. What need have I for more today?” But Gautama, with vigor, countered him: “Who among those who know righteousness, wealth, knowledge, and desire is ever truly satisfied? Only the attainment of excellence is praiseworthy, my friend. Fortunate are those who live by their own effort; those content with handouts live wretched lives. That son alone is praised and honored by his ancestors who does not even speak of desiring their wealth. The son who, by his own strength, acquires wealth is accomplished—he should not touch his father’s riches. And the son who earns wealth himself and gives it to his father or kin—know him to be a true son; the other is merely born of the womb.” Hearing Gautama’s words, Manikuṇḍala was filled with desire and accepted them as truth. He quickly gathered his jewels and presented his own wealth to Gautama. With that money, the two friends journeyed together, traveling as they pleased through many lands. Manikuṇḍala said sincerely, “We will take the wealth and riches and then return home.” But while the merchant spoke honestly, the Brahmin harbored deceitful thoughts. In truth, each was ignorant of the other’s true parentage, and, in their hearts, their intentions began to diverge. As they wandered from land to land in search of greater fortune, Gautama’s mind turned covetous. He thought, “By whatever means possible, I will gather that wealth. There are thousands of delightful cities on earth. Everywhere there are women, like goddesses, who grant desires and are charming—what should I do? If, having obtained wealth through effort, it is offered to women, they enjoy it always; truly, such a life is fruitful. Constantly adorned by courtesans, delighting in dance and song—how shall I enjoy the merchant’s wealth, now in my hands?” Thus reflecting, Gautama, with jeweled earrings glinting and a laugh on his lips, spoke aloud: “Indeed, by unrighteousness, creatures thrive. They attain growth, happiness, and all they desire—there is no doubt. Yet, in this world, the righteous are seen to suffer. What use, then, is righteousness, whose only result is suffering?” To this, the merchant replied, “No, happiness is founded in righteousness. In sin, there is only suffering, fear, grief, poverty, and distress. Where righteousness is, there is liberation. How can one’s own duty perish?” Their argument grew heated, and a dispute arose: whoever’s position proved stronger would claim the other’s wealth. “Let us ask whose strength is greater—the righteous or the unrighteous. In this world, the Veda is supreme, and from righteousness comes happiness,” they declared. So, disputing thus, they addressed the people: “On earth, whose power is greater—righteousness or unrighteousness? Let the truth be spoken!” The followers of righteousness replied, “By us, suffering is experienced; the most sinful people are happy.” In this dispute, all agreed the Brahmin had won the wealth. Amidst this, Maṇimān, known for his wisdom and knowledge of righteousness, again praised dharma. The Brahmin challenged him, “Why do you praise righteousness?” The merchant merely answered, “So be it.” But the Brahmin pressed on: “I have won the wealth, O merchant; why do you shamelessly speak? By me alone, righteousness has been conquered, for I have acted as I wished.” Hearing this, the merchant smiled and replied, “Just as husks are found among grains, and mites among birds, so do I regard those without righteousness. Of the four aims of human life, righteousness is said to be the first; only afterwards come wealth and desire. How can you say, O best of twice-born, that I have been conquered, when righteousness abides with me?” The Brahmin then proposed, “Let the wager be settled by our hands.” The merchant agreed, and both went forth and spoke again to the people. The Brahmin declared, “I have won!” and, in a drastic act, cut off the merchant’s hands, then asked, “How do you regard righteousness now?” Thus challenged, the merchant replied, “I consider righteousness to be supreme, even when life itself is at the throat. For mother, father, friend, and kin—righteousness alone is the true companion of embodied beings.” Thus disputing, the Brahmin became wealthy, and the merchant, having lost both his arms and his wealth, was left destitute. Wandering thus, they came to the Ganges, to the Lord of Yoga, Hari. By chance, the two spoke to each other again. Before the sacred river and the Lord of Yoga, the merchant praised only righteousness, while the Brahmin, still burning with anger, reproached the merchant and spoke again.