Śuka, the wise and contemplative son of Vyāsa, approached his father with a pressing doubt that weighed heavily on his heart. He asked, “O father, a great question troubles me about Videha: Is liberation as spoken of there like that of the Buddhists, or is it something different? How can something that is eaten be called uneaten, or something not done be considered done? How, O wise one, should dealings with the senses truly be renounced?” He continued, his mind restless with inquiry, “Mother, son, wife, sister, even a courtesan—how can there be neither difference nor non-difference among them? If such is the case, what then is liberation? The tongue knows all tastes—bitter, salty, pungent, astringent, sweet—and enjoys supreme pleasures. When knowledge of cold, heat, pleasure, pain, and other experiences arises, what kind of liberation is that, O father? This doubt of mine is truly astonishing.” Śuka pressed on, “When one always recognizes enemy and friend, enmity and affection, how does a king, living amidst worldly affairs, not act upon such feelings? How can one regard a thief and an ascetic as equal? If discernment is absent, what kind of liberation is that? I have never seen anyone who is both a living-liberated soul and a king. How can a king be liberated while still living at home? My doubt is great.” He confessed, “After hearing of such a king, I have developed a strong desire to see him for myself and dispel my doubts. Therefore, I wish to go to Mithilā.” Having thus spoken, Śuka fell at his father’s feet, palms joined in reverence, and spoke with resolve, “O most fortunate one, I take my leave. Your words must ever be heeded by me, but now I wish to see the land of the Videhas, ruled by King Janaka. How does Janaka rule without resorting to punishment? If there were no punishment, people would not uphold dharma. Punishment is the very cause of righteousness, always established by Manu and others. How does it function there, father? This is my great doubt.” He added, “My mother is childless, and her behavior seems strange. I ask you, O blessed one, and now I shall go, O subduer of foes.” Seeing Śuka’s eagerness to depart, Vyāsa, son of Satyavatī, embraced his steadfast, desireless, and wise son. With tenderness, he said, “Fare well, Śuka. Live long, O wise son. Having given me your word, go as you wish, my child. But after going, you must return again to my hermitage; do not go elsewhere under any circumstances. I live happily when I see your lotus-like face; not seeing you, I am filled with sorrow—you are my very life, dear child. After seeing Janaka and dispelling your doubts, come back here and remain happily, devoted to the study of the Vedas.” Thus blessed, Śuka saluted his venerable father, circumambulated him in reverence, and departed swiftly, like an arrow released from the bow. On his journey, he beheld many lands and peoples devoted to wealth and righteousness, forests and trees, and cultivated fields heavy with fruit. He saw ascetics practicing austerities, priests engaged in rituals, yogis absorbed in yoga, forest-dwellers, and those in the vanaprastha stage of life. He observed followers of Śiva, Pāśupatas, Sauras, Śāktas, and Vaiṣṇavas—various paths of dharma—and the sage marveled at the diversity. For two years, the great-minded Śuka journeyed, crossing Mount Meru, and in another year, after traversing the Himalayas, he finally reached Mithilā. Entering the city, he saw its supreme prosperity: the people were happy, well-behaved, and firmly established in good conduct. At the city gate, a guard stopped him and demanded, “Who are you who has come here? What is your business? Speak!” But Śuka remained silent, standing motionless like a pillar, lost in astonishment and deep thought. The gatekeeper pressed him, “Speak! Are you mute, O Brahmin? For what purpose have you come here? No task can be accomplished without movement. By the king’s order, entry into this city is always regulated. No one whose family and conduct are unknown is permitted entry.” The guard continued, “You appear radiant—surely you are a Brahmin, learned in the Vedas. Tell me your lineage and purpose, then go as you wish.” Śuka replied, “The purpose for which I have come here has been fulfilled by your very words: to see the city of Videha, where entry is difficult. My delusion, born of poor judgment, has led me to cross two mountains. Wishing to see the king, I have wandered and arrived here. I have been deceived by my own father—who is to blame for this? O fortunate one, I have been made to wander the earth by fate or my own actions. The desire for wealth is the cause of a man’s wandering in this world. I do not have that, yet still I have come here, apparently out of confusion.” He continued, “For one without hope, happiness is constant—if he does not sink into delusion. I am without hope, O fortunate one, yet I am submerged in this ocean of delusion. Where is Mount Meru, where is Mithilā, and how have I come here on foot? What is the fruit of my effort? Surely I have been deceived by fate. Surely, what has been set in motion must be experienced, whether good or bad. All effort is subject to destiny. There is no sacred place, nor the Veda here—why have I labored thus? Entry to the city is denied; the king is called Videha.” Having spoken thus, Śuka fell silent, standing as if mute. The gatekeeper, recognizing him as a wise and eminent Brahmin, addressed him gently, “Go, sir, wherever your business takes you, as you wish, O best of Brahmins.” Thus, the sage’s journey, filled with questions and revelations, continued as he entered the city of Mithilā, seeking the answers that would dispel his doubts.