Among a group of seekers, three fell from their yogic discipline and wandered with little awareness. In a garden, they glimpsed one shining forth, surrounded by women, radiant and full of vitality. This individual, playful in many ways and possessing great strength and valor, was born in the noble lineage of the Pāñcālas and enjoyed abundant power and many vehicles. Among the aquatic beings, one became desirous of kingship. Meanwhile, a brāhmaṇa, devoted to his father and performing the śrāddha rites, was loving like a son to his father. The other two, seeing the one with great power and vehicles, chose by their own wish to become ministers among mortals. Of these, those who were desireless became the best among brāhmaṇas. One, the son of Vibhrāja, became known as Brahmadatta. The two sons of the ministers were named Kaṇḍarīka and Subālaka. Brahmadatta was anointed king, with a learned priest as his advisor. Brahmadatta, king of the Pāñcālas, was valiant, expert in all scriptures, and knowledgeable in yoga among all creatures. He was skilled in understanding the sounds of all beings. His wife was the auspicious daughter of Devala, renowned as Samnati, who was once called Kapila. Because she was engaged in ancestral rites, she became a speaker of Brahman; together with her, the king's son ruled the kingdom. Once, while the king was in the garden with his wife, he saw a pair of insects agitated by the quarrel of love. The male insect, following the ant all around, his body scorched by the five arrows of Kāma, spoke with faltering words: “Nowhere in the world is there a lover like you. Slender in the middle, with ample hips, broad-chested, and approaching. Golden-hued, beautiful-hipped, adorned with lovely garlands, charmingly smiling, with well-marked eyes and tongue, fond of sweet things like sugar and molasses. You eat when I eat, you bathe when I bathe. When I am away, you are sorrowful, and even when I am angry, you are fearful and restless.” He pleaded, “Tell me, O beautiful one, why do you stand with an angry face?” She replied, wrathfully: “Why do you speak to me, O deceitful one? You gave me modaka powder, then abandoned me, and spent the day with another, inflamed by passion.” The male insect explained, “Because she resembled you, O beautiful one, I gave it to another. Forgive me this one offense, O radiant lady. I will not do this again anywhere, O virtuous one. I touch your feet in truth—be gracious to me as I bow before you.” Hearing these words, the ant became pleased, and then offered herself for enchantment. Brahmadatta, observing all this, was amazed, for he understood the sounds of all beings, a gift granted by the grace of the wielder of the discus. Curious, someone asked: How did Brahmadatta come to understand the speech of all beings on earth? And in whose lineage did the four chakravaka birds arise? In that same city, four were born, called by the name ‘chakra’. They were heirs of an aged twice-born, ancient brāhmins who remembered their past lives. Steadfast and perceivers of truth, learned in the Vedas and eager for austerity, they were sons of a very poor man by name and by deed. Among them, the thought arose: “Let us pursue austerity and attain the highest perfection.” Hearing this, Sudaridra, their father and a great ascetic, spoke in a pitiable voice: “What is this, my children? This is unrighteousness,” he said, forbidding them. But abandoning their aged father, the poor ones went to dwell in the forest. They asked, “What indeed is righteousness here? Is there any path from abandoning the living? Tell us, father, what livelihood you have devised.” Their father explained, “This wealth before you belongs to the king. He will give you abundant riches, thousands of villages, when you recite in the morning.” He spoke of the foremost brāhmins in Kurujāṅgala, the servants in Dāśapura, the deer in Kālañjara, and the seven chakravāka birds in Mānasā—here they were accomplished. Having said this, the sons went again to the forest for austerity, and even the old man went to the royal palace to achieve his own purpose. Once, there was a king named Anagha Vaibhraja, lord of the Pāñcālas, who, desiring a son, worshipped Hari, Nārāyaṇa, the lord of gods. He worshipped the mighty one, devoted to severe vows; after a long time, Janārdana was pleased with him. “Choose a boon, good king, whatever your heart desires,” said the god. The king requested, “Give me a son, lord of gods, of great strength and valor, accomplished in all scriptures, righteous, and supreme among yogis. Give me a son who understands the speech of all beings, a yogi as his own child.” “So be it,” said the universal soul, the supreme lord. Before all the gods, he vanished, and then his son was born—Brahmadatta, full of splendor. Brahmadatta was compassionate to all beings, superior in strength, understanding the speech of all beings, and lord of all beings and lords. One day, that yogic soul entered the form of an ant, where a pair of insects was found enjoying themselves. Seeing him laugh, the ant was greatly astonished, and, suspecting something, questioned the king: “O king, why did this laughter arise suddenly? I do not know the cause for laughter, nor why you did this at such a time.