There was once a man who, overcome by desire, became deeply infatuated with courtesans and grew attached to the wives of others. Succumbing further to vice, he stole the wealth of another and devoted himself to a life among prostitutes. As time passed, misery overtook him, and, burdened by his suffering, he turned to his brother and spoke in bitterness: “You alone, with a wicked mind, have engaged in great sin.” Consumed by anger and resentment, he resolved to kill his brother, seizing a sword in his hand. When the townspeople learned of this, they were filled with anger and bound Sumālī, the man who had fallen so far. Yet, out of a deluded affection for his brother, he was released from captivity. Thereafter, he divided his possessions, keeping half for himself and giving the other half to his younger brother. Arrogant and heedless, he began to eat and associate with foolish people, outcastes, and fierce individuals. His behavior could be likened to the Picumanda tree: though laden with fruit, it is enjoyed only by crows. Intoxicated by wine, he ate the flesh of cows and other wretched things, sinking ever deeper into degradation. Even the king harassed him, forcing the Brahmin to flee into a deserted forest. Yet, in that solitude, something began to change. Tainted—yet transformed—by the company of the virtuous, he started to give food freely and without restraint. Always striving towards righteousness, he cared for the good with great effort. For one who is devoted to giving to the worthy and who follows the path of dharma, it is said that all the fruits of the wish-fulfilling tree are enjoyed only by the immortals. In time, he became fully engaged in service within the house of Vishnu. Thus, Yajñamālī and Sumālī, the two brothers, both died at the same time. At that moment, Hari sent a celestial chariot surrounded by radiant attendants. Yajñamālī was honored by hosts of gods and praised by great sages. Adorned with wondrous ornaments and nourished by the wish-fulfilling cow, he traveled along the divine path toward Vishnu’s abode. As he journeyed, he saw a man along the way, running here and there, lamenting helplessly. Seeing this man crying and restrained by guards, Yajñamālī’s mind was troubled. With joined palms, he asked, “Who is this being, tormented by the guards?” The attendants replied, “This is Sumālī, your brother, who is sinful.” Distressed, Yajñamālī turned to Nārada and pleaded, “Tell me the means for his release, for you are indeed my kinsman.” Among the virtuous, friendship is established by seven steps; among the good, even by three. Even among the good, those who are together—at every step, there is both friendship and enmity. “Therefore,” Yajñamālī continued, “since this is my brother, if he can be released, let it be told here.” Then, with smiling faces, the divine attendants spoke to Yajñamālī, beloved of Hari: “We shall tell you a means, O Sumālī, that grants both love and liberation. Listen attentively, for we will explain it briefly. The sins you have committed are indeed countless. Once, abandoned by your relatives, you were afflicted by grief and sorrow. At that time, there was a rain, and the place became muddy. That place, now smeared and unclean, was in a temple of Viṣṇu. There, bitten by a snake, you met your death. Yet, because of this, you attained birth as a brāhmaṇa and unwavering devotion to Hari.” Thus, the story unfolds—a tale of downfall and redemption, of sin and grace, and of the ultimate power of devotion to the Lord.