Fie upon the kingdom, it is said, where ignorant brāhmaṇas are honored with gifts and respect, for such a land brings no true merit to its ruler. In a place where there is no distinction in seating, worship, or giving between the wise and the foolish, it is the duty of the learned to discern and uphold the difference. Where the unlearned, emboldened by gifts and honors, become proud and arrogant, a learned soul should never choose to reside. For the wealth of the wicked only serves the unworthy, just as the bhallātaka tree, though laden with fruit, is enjoyed only by crows. When a brāhmaṇa, learned in the Vedas, partakes of food and then studies the Vedas, his ancestors rejoice in heaven, delighted by his devotion. O best among those who know the Vedas, you have freed me from the bondage of Gobhila; truly, in this world, having a foolish son is a greater sorrow than death itself. Have mercy, O greatly fortunate one, and be gracious regarding the favor of the curse; you have the power to uplift the distressed, and I fall humbly at your feet. Having spoken thus, Devadatta, with a heart full of sorrow and eyes brimming with tears, fell at the feet of Lomaśa and praised him. Gobhila, witnessing Devadatta’s pitiable state, was moved with compassion; for even the fiercest anger is but momentary, while sinful wrath alone endures through ages. Water, by its nature, is cool, but becomes hot when touched by fire; once the fire is removed, it quickly returns to its natural coolness. Thus, moved by compassion, Gobhila spoke to the distressed Devadatta: "Though your son may become foolish, he will also become wise." Receiving this boon, the foremost among the twice-born was filled with joy. He completed his ritual and dismissed the assembled brāhmaṇas according to proper custom. In time, his beautiful and virtuous wife conceived, and at the proper moment, like the celestial Rohiṇī, she bore a child. Devadatta performed all the prescribed rites for conception and birth, including those for a male child and acts of adornment. He also conducted the ceremony of parting the hair as enjoined by the Vedas, gave gifts joyfully, and considered the ritual fruitful. On an auspicious day, his wife gave birth to a son endowed with Rohiṇī’s qualities. At a highly favorable time, Devadatta performed the birth rites, and upon seeing his son, he conducted the naming ceremony, bestowing upon him the ancient name of Utathya. When the boy reached his eighth year, on another auspicious day, his father performed the sacred thread ceremony, as tradition required. Utathya’s teacher then began to instruct him in the Vedas, as he observed his vows. Yet Utathya did not recite a word; he remained silent, as if bewildered. Though his father taught him again and again, the boy could not grasp the lessons, standing as if dull-witted, and his father was filled with grief. Despite constant practice, when Utathya reached twelve years of age, he still could not properly perform the Vedic rituals or even the daily Sandhyā prayers. News of his foolishness spread widely among the people, among brāhmaṇas and ascetics alike. Wherever the sage went, people laughed at him; his own father and mother scolded him harshly, lamenting their foolish son. Criticized by everyone—by people, by his parents, by his relatives—the brāhmaṇa developed dispassion and decided to leave for the forest. His parents lamented, "A blind or lame son would be preferable to a foolish one, for such a son brings no blessing." And so, Utathya entered the forest. On the bank of the sacred Gaṅgā, at a beautiful spot, he built a fine hut. Resolving to live on forest produce, he stayed there, his mind focused and determined. He undertook strict discipline, vowing never to speak untruth. In that pleasant hermitage, he observed celibacy and dwelled in solitude. Thus begins the narration of Satyavrata. Lomaśa said: Utathya knew nothing of Vedic study or recitation, nor of meditation on deities or their worship. He was ignorant of the proper postures for worship, the practice of breath control, withdrawal of the senses, or the rites of elemental purification. He did not know the mantra’s seal, nor the proper recitation, nor even the sacred Gāyatrī. He was unaware of the rules for purity, for bathing, or for sipping water. He knew nothing of the fire-offering with breath, nor the giving of offerings, nor hospitality to guests. The sage did not know the twilight worship, the kindling of sacred sticks, or the performance of fire rituals. Each morning, he would clean his teeth in some fashion and bathe in the Gaṅgā like a Śūdra, without reciting any mantras. He would gather wild fruits and eat as he pleased, even at midday, never discerning what should or should not be eaten. Yet, while living there, he always spoke the truth and never uttered a falsehood. People began to call this twice-born one "truthful and austere." He would not harm anyone, nor perform any forbidden act; he slept peacefully, without fear, and reflected to himself: "When will my death come? I live in misery in this forest; shame on the life of a fool—death is surely better." He lamented, "By fate I have become a fool; there is no other cause for me. Having attained this excellent birth, now it has been wasted. Just as a beautiful woman who is barren, a tree that bears no fruit, or a cow that gives no milk, so have I become useless. Yet, why should I blame fate? Surely my actions are responsible. In a previous life, I did not give a book I had made to a great-souled brāhmaṇa. Because I did not impart pure knowledge before, by the force of karma, I am now a deceitful and lowly twice-born." Thus, in solitude and sorrow, Utathya dwelled, his heart heavy with the fruits of his past deeds.