Vyāsa beheld his newly born son with profound astonishment, marveling at the wonder before him. As he pondered the cause of this extraordinary birth, Vyāsa recalled the boon he had received from Śiva, understanding the divine origin of his child. Śuka, though not born in the usual way but from the sacred fire-sticks, radiated with a brilliance all his own. He seemed like a second blazing fire, his form resplendent and filled with an inner light. Vyāsa gazed upon his son, who was joyful and endowed with divine splendor, resembling the sacred household fire that brings auspiciousness to all. Emerging from the mountain, Vyāsa took his radiant son and bathed him in the holy waters of the Gaṅgā. As he did so, a shower of flowers rained down from the heavens, and ascetics gathered in reverence to witness this sacred moment. Vyāsa then performed all the necessary birth rites for his great-souled child. Divine drums echoed through the air, and the celestial apsarases danced in celebration. The lords of the Gandharvas—Viśvāvasu, Nārada, and Tumburu—sang joyfully, eager to witness the birth of Śuka. All the gods and Vidyādharas, delighted by the sight of Vyāsa’s divine son born from the fire-sticks, offered their praises. From the sky descended gifts for Śuka: a staff, a beautiful black antelope skin, and a divine water pot, signifying his destiny as a sage. Though just born, Śuka immediately grew to boyhood, his radiance undiminished. Vyāsa, well-versed in sacred rites, performed his son’s initiation into learning. At that very moment, the Vedas themselves, with all their mysteries and branches, approached Śuka just as they had once come to his father. Because a parrot-form was seen at his birth from Ghṛtācī, the best of sages, Vyāsa, named his son Śuka. As Śuka grew, he sought out Bṛhaspati as his teacher, faithfully observing all the vows and disciplines of the student’s life. He mastered the Vedas in all their fullness, as well as the treatises on dharma, completing his education in the teacher’s house. Having given the traditional fee to his guru, Śuka returned home and came to the side of his father, Kṛṣṇadvaipāyana Vyāsa. Seeing his son arrive, Vyāsa rose with love and excitement, embracing him again and again and affectionately smelling his head. He inquired after Śuka’s well-being and studies, and, comforting him, settled his son in the auspicious hermitage. Vyāsa then began to consider his son’s marriage and quickly sought a beautiful sage’s daughter as a suitable bride. He said to Śuka, “You have studied the Veda, O sinless one, and all the treatises on dharma. Now, O wise one, it is time for you to take a wife. Enter household life, worship the gods and ancestors, and free me from my debts by taking a lovely wife. For one without a son, there is no destiny, no heaven at all. Therefore, my fortunate son, today embrace the householder’s stage. By becoming a householder, make me happy and fulfill my great hope. Having performed severe austerities, you were born without a mother, O wise one with a divine form; now, protect your father, Śuka.” As Vyāsa spoke thus, Śuka, though deeply detached from worldly life, listened with devotion to his father, whom he revered as his very self. Śuka replied, “Why do you say this, O knower of dharma, O Vedavyāsa, my wise father? Instruct me truly, for I am ready to carry out your command as your disciple.” Vyāsa explained, “For your sake, my son, I performed austerities for a hundred years, and you were obtained with great hardship by propitiating Śiva. I will provide you with wealth, having requested it from the king; enjoy happiness, O wise one, for you have reached the prime of youth.” But Śuka responded, “Father, what happiness in this world is truly free from affliction? The wise do not call that happiness which is touched by suffering. If I take a wife, I will become subject to her will; what happiness is there for one who is dependent, especially one conquered by a woman? One bound by iron or wooden restraints may sometimes be freed, but one bound by children and wife is never released. This body is born of filth and urine, and so too is a woman’s body; what wise person would wish to take delight in that? I am not born from a womb, O sage among Brāhmaṇas; what attachment could I have to the womb? Even in the future, I do not desire birth from a womb. Why would I desire the pleasure of excrement, abandoning the wondrous joy of the Self? One who delights in the Self does not become excessively greedy. I first studied the Vedas and explained them to you, but they are filled with violence and lead to the path of ritual action. Bṛhaspati, my guru, was attained, but he too is sunk in the ocean of household life. His heart is seized by ignorance—how can he save others? Just as a physician afflicted by disease treats the illness of others, so too is a householder as a guru for one seeking liberation—a contradiction. Having bowed to my guru, I have come to you; save me, who am afraid of the serpent of worldly existence, by the knowledge of truth. In this terrible world, wandering is like the movement of the sun in the sky; there is no rest at any time, just as for the sun, day and night. What happiness, father, is there in worldly life apart from inquiry into one’s true nature? The happiness of fools is like the pleasure of worms in filth. Those who study the Vedas and scriptures but remain attached to worldly life are not superior to fools; they are like dogs, donkeys, and pigs. Having attained the rare human birth and studied the Vedas and scriptures, if one is still bound in worldly existence, who among humans can truly be freed?