The sage Śuka, his mind detached and having transcended the bonds of worldly qualities, spoke to King Janaka with serene conviction: “O king, what use have I for a house, for wealth, or even for a beautiful wife? My mind is free from attachment to these things. Yet you, it seems, are preoccupied with forms and entangled in many attachments, all the while claiming liberation—this is mere pretense. At times, you worry about enemies, at others about wealth or your armies. Tell me, O king, when are you ever truly free from care? “Even the Vaikhānasa sages, who live with restraint and observe their vows faithfully, can become deluded by worldly life, despite knowing its illusory nature. And as for your lineage, O king, those born among you are called ‘Videha’—the detached ones—but know that this title is misleading, never otherwise. A name alone does not confer reality: just as a Vidyādhara may be ignorant, a man born blind cannot be the sun, and a wealthy man may in truth be poor. Names, without substance, are meaningless. “All the kings of your line whom I have heard of are renowned as ‘Videha’ in name, but not in deed. Once, there was a king named Nimi in your family, a royal sage. For the sake of a great sacrifice, he invited his own guru, the sage Vasiṣṭha. At that time, Vasiṣṭha replied, ‘I have already been summoned by Indra for a sacrifice. After completing his, I will perform yours as well. Meanwhile, O king, make the necessary preparations.’ “Having spoken thus, Vasiṣṭha departed for Indra’s sacrifice. King Nimi, however, appointed another priest and carried out the sacrifice himself. When Vasiṣṭha heard of this, he was consumed by anger and cursed Nimi: ‘For neglecting your guru, your body shall fall this very day.’ In return, Nimi cursed him as well: ‘Yours too shall fall.’ Thus, by each other’s curse, both fell from their bodies. This, O king, is what I have heard. “But how did the guru himself come to be cursed by Videha? This question shines in my mind like a playful diversion, O best of kings.” Janaka replied with calm assurance, “What you say is true, and there is no falsehood in your words. Listen, O best of Brahmins, my guru was always greatly honored. But you—abandoning your father’s home—seek to dwell in the forest, associating closely with the animals. The great elements are everywhere; where will you escape attachment? Even in the forest, you will be concerned for food—how, then, will you be carefree? “Just as you worry about your staff and deer-skin in the forest, so I have concerns for my kingdom, whether I think of them or not. You, troubled by doubt, have come from afar, while I am free from all uncertainty and doubt. O Brahmin, I sleep and eat happily in every way. My mind is never bound; I am always content. “But you are ever unhappy, troubled by the thought, ‘I am bound.’ Abandon this doubt and be happy, steadfast in mind. This body is bondage, and liberation is the conviction ‘it is not mine.’ Likewise with wealth, house, and kingdom—true freedom is the certainty ‘these are not mine.’” Hearing these wise words, Sūta narrates, Śuka felt great joy. Taking leave of Janaka, he made his way swiftly to the excellent hermitage of his father, Vyāsa. Seeing his son approach, Vyāsa too was filled with happiness; he embraced Śuka, lovingly smelled his head, and inquired after his well-being. Śuka remained in that delightful hermitage, attentive at his father’s side, accomplished in the study of the Vedas and expert in all scriptures. Observing the state of Janaka, the noble king, Śuka attained supreme contentment while residing with his father. Among the blessed daughters of the Pitṛs was the beautiful Pīvarī, whom Śuka took as his wife, even as he remained steadfast in the path of yoga. By her, he fathered four sons: Kṛṣṇa, Gauraprabha, Bhūri, and Devaśruta. He also had a daughter, Kīrti, whom he gave in marriage to Aṇuhā, the great-souled son of Vibhrāja. Aṇuhā’s son was the illustrious Brahmadatta, a powerful knower of Brahman and ruler of the earth, born of a Śaka maiden. In time, through the guidance of the sage Nārada, Brahmadatta attained supreme knowledge and the highest path of yoga. Entrusting his kingdom to his own son, he retired to the hermitage at Badarikā. There, through the teachings on the nature of Māyā, his knowledge became unobstructed, and by Nārada’s grace, he attained immediate liberation. Śuka too, abandoning all attachment to his father, journeyed to the delightful peak of Kailāsa. Immersed in deep meditation, he turned away from all worldly ties. Rising from the mountain peak, he attained the highest accomplishment. Moving through the sky, radiant with spiritual energy, Śuka shone like the sun itself. At his ascent, the mountain peak split in two, and many wondrous omens appeared. Śuka traveled through the sky like the wind, praised by the divine sages, his brilliance like a second sun. Vyāsa, overwhelmed by separation from his beloved son, called out again and again, “My son! My son!” He reached the mountain peak where a parrot had remained. Seeing Vyāsa exhausted and sorrowful, the parrot perceived his cries of grief. Present as a witness in all beings, the parrot echoed Vyāsa’s lament. Even today, a clear echo is heard on that mountain peak. Thus, Vyāsa was seen weeping, overcome with grief, calling out in anguish, “Son, son!” and submerged in the pain of separation.