After vanquishing all his foes in battle, the mighty king Manobhadra ruled the entire earth, with its islands and encircling oceans, bringing peace and order to his vast domain. One day, this renowned protector of the earth summoned his ministers to the royal assembly. With affection, he addressed them amidst the gathered court, his words carrying the weight of wisdom and experience. “O ministers,” Manobhadra began, “I have protected this whole earth; all my enemies, their sons, armies, and vehicles have been vanquished. My own clans are safe, the Brahmins have been satisfied with generous gifts, and all the gods, their offspring, forces, and vehicles have been duly honored. Through sacrifices performed with proper offerings, I have safeguarded my lineage. Yet now, this great old age has drained all my strength.” He paused, his voice tinged with weariness. “I am weak and unable to perform even a few actions. Royal splendor does not shine in one who lacks ability. A woman adorned with every ornament, but whose limbs are aged, is like this: as long as she is so, all men still fear her. But once her vigor is gone, even those who once adored her turn away, though she has every virtue. Likewise, the earth abandons an aged king, just as a free woman leaves her guardian. All virtues are gained through devotion, and great fame is attained through virtue. Supreme good is achieved through giving, and the earth is gained by strength; but one who lacks ability, though pitiable, is surely ruled by enemies. The king who heeds only the words of fools meets ruin. Therefore, I wish to divide the whole kingdom among the best ministers.” He looked around at his trusted counselors. “I wish to give the kingdom to my two sons, if you all agree.” The ministers, pleased, replied, “O king, your words, learned in statecraft, echo our own thoughts. There is no doubt in this matter.” By the king’s command, his two sons, Vīrabhadra and Yaśobhadra—both virtuous, kind-spoken, ever devoted to their father, peaceful, strong, and intent on righteousness—were summoned to the assembly. There, Manobhadra, foremost in wisdom, divided the entire kingdom between them, curious to see how they would rule. Just then, a vulture, accompanied by his mate, arrived and settled in the midst of the assembly. The birds in the court were filled with joy at this auspicious arrival. The king, curious, asked, “Tell me, for what auspicious reason have you two come?” The vulture replied, “O protector of the earth, I am a vulture, and this is my mate. We have come joyfully to witness the prosperity of your sons. In their previous birth, a great calamity befell them, and in this birth, we have come to see their good fortune.” Hearing these wondrous words, the king was amazed. He turned to the sage and asked, “Vulture, your speech is marvelous. How do you know the previous history of these two? If you truly know, tell me everything in full.” The vulture answered, “O King, in the age called Dvāpara, these two were outcastes named Garasaṅgara, sons of Satyaghoṣa. At the same time, both died in their own homes, and the fierce, fanged servants of Yama came to take them. Countless messengers arrived, nooses in hand, and bound the two, intoxicated with pride, with leather cords. They led them by a most difficult path to the abode of Death. There, Dharmarāja spoke to Citragupta, ‘Examine in detail the conduct of these two.’ By his command, Citragupta investigated thoroughly all their deeds, good and bad. He reported to Antaka, ‘These two were devoted to virtue and great in intent. If there was any evil, all their actions have been examined. They gave gifts, but not to a twice-born. Because of that, O King, these two are destined for hell. Whoever gives, but not to a twice-born, goes to a terrible hell, terrifying to all beings. The donor should not recall the gift, nor should the recipient demand it. Both dwell in hell as long as the moon and sun endure. Therefore, these two are great sinners, thieves of Brahman property. Let the servants quickly lead them to the most dreadful hell.’ By Yama’s command, the messengers, their lips clenched in anger, hurled the two into the terrible hell. On that very day, O King, my wife and I were also brought by Yama’s messengers to Yama’s abode. The deed I committed, O King, listen to it; I will tell you everything from the beginning, astonishing to those who hear. Formerly, I was a Brahmin named Sarvaga of great lineage, living in the land of Saurāṣṭra, accomplished in the Vedas and Vedāṅgas. This renowned woman, Mañjūkaṣā, is my wife—devoted, greatly fortunate, born in a pure family. Yet, being careless, O greatly fortunate one, due to knowledge and the pride of youth, I once disrespected my parents in my mind. I was praised in assemblies, accomplished in all duties, dwelling in the forest; wealthy, handsome, wise, and intent on supporting my kin.” Thus, in the midst of the royal assembly, the vulture recounted the past lives and deeds that had led the king’s sons, and even himself, to their present fate, weaving together the threads of karma, virtue, and destiny before the spellbound court.