After imparting his teachings, the great sage departed to attend Indra’s sacrifice. King Nimi, however, did not let the momentum of his own sacrifice falter; he respectfully appointed another guru in the sage’s place and proceeded with the grand ritual. When Vasiṣṭha heard of this, anger flared within him. Feeling slighted as a guru, he pronounced a curse upon King Nimi: “For neglecting your spiritual teacher, your body shall fall today.” Stung by this, the king responded in kind, cursing the sage: “Your body too shall fall.” Thus, by the power of each other’s words, both Vasiṣṭha and Nimi met their end—a tale recounted through the ages. A question arose: How could such a revered guru himself be cursed by Videha, the king? This curious turn of events lingered in the mind, shining like a diversion in the stream of the story. King Janaka affirmed, “What you have said is true; there is no falsehood in your account. Still, hear me, O best of Brahmins, for my guru was always greatly honored.” Janaka continued, “You wish to abandon your father’s company and seek the solitude of the forest, associating with animals and living apart from human society. But the great elements pervade everywhere—where will you ever be free from attachment? Even in the forest, the concern for food will persist; how then will you be truly carefree, O sage? Just as you, even in the forest, worry about your staff and deer-skin, so too do I have concerns about my kingdom, whether I think of them or not. “You, beset by doubt, have come from a distant land, but I am entirely free from uncertainty, my mind unwavering and at peace. O Brahmin, I sleep happily, I eat happily, content in every way; my mind is never bound. But you are always troubled, thinking ‘I am bound’; let go of this doubt and be happy, steadfast of mind. “Indeed, this body is bondage, and liberation is the firm conviction: ‘This is not mine.’ Likewise, wealth, house, and kingdom—true freedom is knowing, ‘These are not mine.’” Hearing these wise words from Janaka, Śuka felt a deep joy awaken within him. He took respectful leave and made his way swiftly to the excellent hermitage of his father, Vyāsa. Vyāsa, seeing his beloved son approach, was filled with happiness. He embraced Śuka, lovingly smelling his head, and inquired again about his well-being. Śuka remained in that delightful hermitage, ever attentive at his father’s side, excelling in the study of the Vedas and mastering all the scriptures. Observing the serene state of King Janaka, Śuka too attained supreme contentment while dwelling in his father’s hermitage. In time, among the fortunate daughters of the Pitṛs, the beautiful Pīvarī became Śuka’s wife, even as he remained steadfast on 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 noble son of Vibhrāja. Aṇu’s own son was the illustrious Brahmadatta, a powerful ruler and knower of Brahman, born of a Śaka maiden. Guided by the sage Nārada, Brahmadatta eventually 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 teaching of the seed of Māyā, his knowledge became clear and unobstructed. By Nārada’s grace, he attained immediate liberation. Śuka too, having relinquished all attachment—even to his father—sought the blissful heights of Mount Kailāsa. Immersed in deep meditation and free from all bonds, he rose from the mountain peak, attaining the highest spiritual accomplishment. Radiant with divine energy, he moved through the sky, shining like the very sun itself. As Śuka ascended, the mountain peak split in two, and many wondrous omens appeared. The divine sages praised him as he traveled through the heavens, glowing with extraordinary brilliance—a second sun in the sky. Vyāsa, overwhelmed by the pain of separation from his son, cried out again and again, “My son! My son!” He reached the mountain peak where a parrot had once dwelled. Hearing Vyāsa’s sorrowful cries, the parrot, present as a witness in all beings, echoed his lament. Even today, it is said, a clear echo resounds from that mountain peak. Seeing Vyāsa weeping in grief, calling out for his son and submerged in sorrow, Lord Shiva appeared before him and spoke: “Vyāsa, do not grieve. Your son is foremost among yogis. He has attained the supreme state, a rare achievement for those who have not mastered themselves. You, who understand the truth of freedom from sorrow, should not mourn for him. Indeed, your fame has become great through your son, O sinless one.” Vyāsa replied, “Yet, O Lord of gods, my sorrow does not leave me. What can I do, Lord of the world? My eyes remain unsatisfied, longing to see my son.” Mahadeva, compassionate, said, “You will see the beautiful shadow of your son standing near you. Beholding that, O tiger among sages, let go of your grief, O scorcher of foes.” Suta narrated: Vyāsa then saw the radiant shadow of his son. Having granted this boon, Lord Hara vanished, and Vyāsa, his heart somewhat eased, returned to his hermitage. Yet, even with Śuka’s absence, Vyāsa was deeply scorched by grief and suffered greatly. At this point, the sages inquired, “Śuka, O best of gods, attained the highest perfection. What did Vyāsa do afterward? Tell us in detail.” Suta replied: Vyāsa’s disciples, devoted to Vedic study, all received his command and earlier departed into the world. Among them were Asita, Devala, Vaiśampāyana, Jaimini, and Sumantu—all great ascetics who went forth to fulfill their destinies.