Eager for wisdom, a king humbly asked the sage Narada, “If there is any pure story in Ayodhya, please tell me. I thirst for your immortal words.” Narada replied, “Indeed, there is a virtuous tale here, one that destroys great sins. It concerns a barber and a twice-born man named Mukunda, both of whom acted recently. O King, though the barber was a slayer of a Brahmin and Mukunda died prematurely, by the grace of Kosala, both attained heaven.” Narada began his narration: On the bank of the river Chandrabhaga, there stood a city. In that city lived a sinful barber named Chandaka, despised by all. He was notorious for theft, taking the wealth of others by wicked means. He robbed travelers with weapons, ropes, and other devices, killed without remorse, and was addicted to gambling and liquor. Lustful for other men’s wives, he even broke the walls of a temple to sell its bricks and stones. Near Chandaka’s dwelling lived a Brahmin named Mukunda, wealthy and skilled in Vedic rites. One night, Mukunda, embracing his young wife, slept deeply, his body exhausted from lovemaking, free from fear. In the middle of that night, Chandaka entered Mukunda’s house, intent on stealing whatever ornaments and valuables he could find. He took whatever was kept outside for use and returned home, but soon entered the Brahmin’s house again. Trying with great effort to break open the door, he found it secured with an iron mechanism and could not force it open. Determined, he climbed up and entered the house from above. Once inside, the cruel man placed his hand on Mukunda. Ascending to the upper story, Chandaka saw the two spouses asleep, deeply distressed. He approached them, desiring their gold ornaments, and took many ornaments lying on one part of the bed. As he stretched out his hand to take them, Mukunda, frightened by the thief’s touch, awoke. He said nothing, keeping his eyes closed and lying still. The thief took the ornaments from his body. As Chandaka was leaving, Mukunda, unable to bear the loss of his wealth, seized the thief with both arms. In desperation, the thief killed Mukunda with a dagger. Mukunda’s belly was torn open, and he cried out for his father and mother. People rushed to his side, asking, “What happened? What is this?” They found Mukunda with his entrails protruding, his body smeared with blood. They asked him, “By whom was this deed done?” With great difficulty, Mukunda told his relatives. Mukunda said, “This is only the ripening of my own past actions. No one is the giver of happiness or sorrow to any embodied being. Righteousness and unrighteousness both have their root in previous actions.” Having spoken thus, greatly afflicted by pain, Mukunda gave up his life in the presence of his friends. At that time, his mother, the noble Brahmin lady, lamented. Placing his head, adorned with earrings, on her lap, she cried, “Alas, I am destroyed by you, my child, as you depart at the final moment. Just as the beauty of the day is lost when the sun sets behind the western mountain, so your body, O wise one, fit to be anointed with sandal, is now covered with dust, plunging me into the ocean of pain and grief.” She mourned further, “The habit of chewing betel that you established is the cause of this mixture of blood and phlegm being expelled; those eyes of yours, which once surpassed the beauty of lotuses, are now covered by a mass of darkness. Arise, arise, dear one, instruct your students yourself. Just as, at the conclusion of the Vaiśvadeva rite, one worships a guest who has arrived, so too your friends are standing at the door, calling for you—go to them. Give to them what should be given, and accept what should be accepted; alas, give me a reply, I fall at your feet. Otherwise, I will give up my life here at your side.” After these words, Mukunda’s wife fainted. Placing her husband’s head in her lap, she lamented: “Listen to my words, O ocean, by the path of your name. If you are angry, tell me openly in my presence; never before, O noble one, have you kept such silence. Has some younger brother insulted you in some way? This parrot of yours, kept in a cage, will not eat food without you; feed him well-cooked rice, and the sweet-voiced mynah bird as well. Recite to these two—the mynah and the parrot—the string of names: ‘Rama, Rama, Hare Krishna, Vishnu’; arise and teach them, for they are clever. What offense have I committed against you, that you do not speak to me? The wealth you gave me, I have guarded faithfully. What you entrusted to me, O lord—your own brilliance within my womb—when the time of birth comes, I will not neglect it; I will follow you.” Thus lamenting, she, the beloved of Mukunda, did not weep, for she was intent on following her husband. Then, Mukunda’s guru, named Vedayana, a renunciant wandering the earth, came to his house. He asked, “Where has Mukunda gone, and his wise mother and wife? They are not to be seen.” To this, the maidservant replied.