You are troubled, always weighed down by the thought, “I am bound.” Let go of this doubt, and be happy—steadfast and unwavering in your mind. Remember, this body itself is bondage, and true liberation comes from the deep conviction, “This is not mine.” In the same way, wealth, house, and kingdom—freedom is found in the certainty, “These are not mine.” When Śuka heard these words, joy blossomed within him. Taking leave, he made his way swiftly to the splendid hermitage of his father, Vyāsa. Vyāsa, seeing his beloved son approach, was filled with happiness. He embraced Śuka warmly, smelling his head in affection, and inquired once more about his son’s well-being. Śuka remained in that delightful hermitage, ever attentive at his father’s side. He immersed himself in Vedic study and became deeply versed in all the scriptures. Observing the state of the great-souled King Janaka, Śuka attained supreme contentment while residing in his father’s hermitage. Among the blessed daughters of the Pitṛs was the beautiful Pīvarī, whom Śuka married, even as he remained firmly established in the path of yoga. By her, Śuka had four sons: Kṛṣṇa, Gauraprabha, Bhūri, and Devaśruta. He also fathered a daughter named Kīrti, whom he gave in marriage to Aṇuhā, the noble son of Vibhrāja. Aṇuhā’s own son was the illustrious Brahmadatta, powerful and wise, a knower of Brahman and ruler of the earth, born of a Śaka maiden. In time, under the guidance of Nārada, Brahmadatta attained supreme knowledge and the highest path of yoga. Entrusting his kingdom to his son, he journeyed to the hermitage at Badarikā. There, through teachings on the very seed of Māyā, his knowledge became clear and unobstructed. By Nārada’s grace, Śuka too attained immediate liberation. He relinquished all attachment, even to his father, and on the delightful peak of Kailāsa, he entered into deep meditation, turning away from all bonds. Rising from the mountain peak, he attained the highest accomplishment. Moving through the sky, radiant with immense energy, he shone like the sun itself. At Śuka’s ascent, the very mountain peak split in two, and many wondrous omens appeared. Śuka soared through the heavens, swift as the wind, praised by the divine sages. His brilliance was extraordinary, like a second sun. Vyāsa, overwhelmed by separation, called out again and again, “My son!” He reached the mountain peak where a parrot had once remained. The parrot, witnessing Vyāsa’s distress and hearing his sorrowful cries, echoed them. Even today, a clear echo is heard on that mountain peak, a reminder of that moment. Seeing Vyāsa weeping, overcome with grief and calling out, “Son, son!”—submerged in the pain of separation—Lord Shiva appeared before him and spoke: “Vyāsa, do not grieve; your son is foremost in yoga. He has attained the supreme state, which is rare even among those who have mastered themselves. You, who understand the freedom from sorrow, should not mourn for him. Your fame has become great through that 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? Even now, my eyes are unsatisfied, longing for a glimpse of my son.” Mahādeva said, “You will see the beautiful shadow of your son standing nearby. Beholding that shadow, O tiger among sages, let go of your grief, O scorcher of foes.” Then, Vyāsa beheld the radiant shadow of his son. Having granted this boon, Lord Hara vanished from that place, and Vyāsa, with Mahādeva gone, returned to his hermitage. Yet, even in Śuka’s absence, Vyāsa was scorched by grief and suffered greatly. The sages then asked, “Śuka, O best of gods, attained the highest perfection. What did Vyāsa do afterward? Tell us in detail.” Sūta replied: The disciples of Vyāsa, devoted to Vedic study, all received his command and departed earlier into the world: Asita, Devala, Vaiśampāyana, Jaimini, and Sumantu—all these ascetics went forth. Seeing both his disciples and his son departed from the world, Vyāsa, overwhelmed by sorrow, resolved to leave as well. In his mind, he remembered his virtuous mother, the Niṣāda maiden, now freed from sorrow and dwelling by the banks of the Jahnavi. Recalling Satyavatī, Vyāsa left that lofty mountain and journeyed to his birthplace. Arriving at the island, he inquired, “Where has that beautiful-faced woman gone?” The Niṣādas told him, “The maiden was given to the king.” The King of the Daśas, filled with affection, worshipped Vyāsa with great respect and welcomed him with due honor, addressing him with joined palms: “Today my birth has borne fruit, and our lineage is purified, O Sage, for even the gods rarely behold what I have seen—your presence. Whatever your purpose, O best of twice-born, please tell me. My wives, wealth, and sons—all this is at your disposal, O illustrious one.” On the beautiful bank of the Sarasvatī, Vyāsa established a hermitage. There, absorbed in austerities, he lived with a focused mind. When the two sons of Satyavatī, radiant descendants of Śantanu, were born, Vyāsa, considering them as brothers, dwelled contentedly in the forest. Chitrāngada, the eldest, handsome and a subduer of foes, became the king’s son, marked by all auspicious signs.