Once, the wise gathered to discuss the paths of virtue and perfection for people at every stage of life. They spoke first of the diligent student, the celibate who, when summoned, eagerly studies and serves the teacher with devotion. This student rises before dawn, rests only after all others, and is gentle, self-controlled, steadfast, vigilant, and committed to self-study. Such discipline assures the student’s success. Turning to householders, the elders recalled the ancient teaching: one should earn wealth righteously, perform sacrifices, give generously, and feed guests, never accepting what is given by others. This is the way of the householder. For the forest-dweller, they described a sage who lives by his own strength, abstains from wrongdoing, gives to others, and harms none. Regulating his food and actions, he dwells in the forest and attains the highest perfection. Then, they spoke of the wandering mendicant: one who does not live by crafts, avoids quarrels, has mastered his senses, is detached from all, sleeps wherever night finds him, seeks little, and roams many lands. Such a mendicant embodies renunciation. They reminded each other that while most people, overcome by desire, find pleasure in the night, the wise man, self-controlled and established in the forest, strives for restraint during that same time. The forest-dweller, they said, attains merit by offering to ten ancestors before him, ten after him, and himself as the twenty-first, relinquishing his bodily elements in the forest. Curious, someone asked, “How many vows of silence are there among the gods and sages? How many exist?” The elders explained that a sage is lord among men if, living in the forest with the village behind him, or in the village with the forest behind him, he remains unattached. “How does a village come to be behind one who dwells in the forest? Or, how does the forest come to be behind one who dwells in the village?” they asked. The answer was clear: one should not engage in worldly pursuits. The sage devoted to the forest leaves the village behind. For the sage without fire, without a fixed abode, wandering without family ties, only a simple garment to cover his loins is desired. If a sage dwells in the village, he should desire only enough food to sustain life. Thus, for him, the forest is left behind. But the sage who has renounced desires, abandoned actions, mastered his senses, and practices silence attains perfection in this world. “Who would not honor one whose teeth are cleansed, nails trimmed, always bathed and adorned, who is dark yet engaged in pure deeds?” they mused. When the sage, emaciated by austerity, thin, with flesh, bones, and blood diminished, becomes free from dualities and established in silence, he conquers both this world and the next. When he seeks food with his mouth like a cow, all the worlds become fit for his immortality. Then, a question was posed to a king: “Which of these two first attains union with the gods—those who strive, like the sun and the moon racing together?” The answer came: “He who, though living among householders and those devoted to desires, remains restrained and wanders as a mendicant in the village—he attains first.” If one who has not attained long life or has become deformed practices austerity, let him undertake severe penance. Whatever is cruel is unfit; he who serves righteousness with a mind not set on gain is not a lord, but that is integrity, concentration, and nobility. A dialogue unfolded. “By whom, O King, have you been sent today? You are young, garlanded, handsome, radiant—where have you come from, in which direction? Or do you have a royal position here?” The reply was somber: “He whose merit is exhausted is about to enter this earthly hell, cast down from the sky to the earth. Having told you this, I shall fall; these guardians of Brahma’s world are urging me on. Surrounded by the virtuous, your fall is joined by all the worthy; I have obtained this boon from Indra, O king, that I shall fall to the earth.” A further question: “As you fall into the abyss, O king, are there worlds here for me—whether in the atmosphere or established in heaven? I consider you the knower of the field of that righteousness.” The reply: “As many cows and horses as are established on earth, along with wild animals and birds—so many worlds are established for you in heaven; know this, O lion among kings. I give you those worlds—do not fall into the abyss. O king of kings, as many worlds as are in heaven, or in the atmosphere, or established in heaven—take possession of them quickly, O destroyer of foes.” Yet, the king replied, “O foremost of kings, neither one such as I, nor a non-Brahmin, nor even a knower of Brahman, should engage in accepting gifts. Whatever should always be given to the twice-born, I gave that before, O king. A wretched non-Brahmin should never live, even if he has a Brahmin wife or is the husband of a heroic woman. If I were to do what has never been done before, seeking to know, what virtue would there be in that?” He asked, “O Pratardana of admirable form: if I have worlds, whether in the sky or in heaven as is heard, I consider you to be the knower of the law concerning them.” The answer came, “There are many worlds for you, O king—each one, seven hundred days long, flowing with honey and ghee, free from sorrow; yet they are finite, and they await you. I give you those worlds as you fall, O king; let my worlds become yours. Whether they are established in the sky or in heaven, quickly ascend to them, your delusion dispelled.” Another king spoke: “Indeed, I desire righteous merit equal to yours, for the security of a king comes from another king. When misfortune arises by divine will, a wise king should never act cruelly. Reflecting on the righteous path, one should perform penance for fame, observing dharma. A king of my understanding and sense of dharma would never act miserably toward me as you suggest. Should I do what has never been done by others, seeking to know—what virtue would there be in that?” Thus spoke Vasumanas to King Yayati. Yayati then asked Vasumanas, “If there is a world in heaven for me, O king, or if it is renowned in the sky, O great-souled one, I consider you the knower of the law concerning it.” Vasumanas replied, “As the sun shines upon the sky, earth, and directions by your radiance, so many worlds are established in heaven; they await you. I give you those worlds as you fall, O king; let my worlds become yours. Purchase them even with a blade of grass, if your acceptance is pure.” Yayati said, “I do not recall ever making a false sale, even in childhood, O king. Nor would I do what has never been done by others, seeking to know, O Vasumanas; that is not righteous.” Vasumanas insisted, “You should accept those worlds, O king, which I have given; if you do not desire to purchase them, I will not take them back, O king. Let all those worlds truly become yours.” Finally, Yayati turned to Śibi, son of Uśīnara, and asked, “If I too have worlds, dear one, whether they are established in the sky or in heaven, I consider you the knower of the law concerning them.” Thus, through questions and answers, through teachings and offerings, the sages and kings explored the nature of virtue, renunciation, and the worlds that await those who follow the righteous path.