Abandoning the path of righteousness, you persistently committed sin and became the destroyer of our family's honor, bringing suffering to your own kin. Such, indeed, is the astonishing work of the Creator: even in the ocean where the moon was born, foam is produced—so too can impurity arise in the purest of lineages. Alas, the power of wicked sons cannot be measured; in a single moment, they can destroy the reputation that many have painstakingly built over generations. When a noble son is born, the lineage flourishes; but if a wicked son appears, even the most illustrious family becomes degraded. Having spoken these harsh truths, all his relatives, angered and fearing disgrace, immediately abandoned that sinful man. Cast off by his kin, reviled by all, and stripped of his wealth, he wandered in sorrow and turned to a life of banditry. As he committed merciless and violent deeds as a bandit, the people of that region seized him and brought him before the king. Yet the king, out of affection for the bandit’s father, did not sentence him to death, but instead banished him from his land. Thus exiled, the bandit took refuge in the forest, joining with other arrogant outlaws, and together they lay in wait to rob travelers without mercy. One day, weary from wandering with his bandit companions, he came to the riverbank to bathe. There, he saw many Brahmins gathered, engaged in the worship of the Lord. After completing their worship of Janardana, the Brahmins began to speak among themselves with great curiosity. “Today I have offered champaka flowers,” said one. Another said, “I have given betel leaves to Murari.” A third remarked, “Betel leaves should never be eaten in any birth; today I have given the finest plantain fruit to Hari.” Another added, “For many births I have eaten plantain fruit; someone else says, ‘I have given a pomegranate to Hari.’” Yet another said, “I have given the finest mango to Hari.” Listening to their words, the bandit thought to himself, “What shall I offer to Vishnu? Of all the things in the world that can be eaten, I have them. But I am unable to give up anything—what can I give to Murari? I always dwell in the forest, a thief, fearful of the king. I have never even had the right to ride in a cart.” Again and again he pondered, until he declared, “I have given a cart to Hari, the bestower of the four aims of life.” Afterwards, the Brahmins departed as they had come, and the bandit, along with his companions, returned to their hideout. Once, taking the same path, he came to a place called Gudakandola. There, a traveler carrying a load arrived at Kakimandala, and the bandit, bold and violent, suddenly seized a lump of jaggery belonging to a honey seller. The robbers broke the lump, and the king Urvīśu happened upon the portion shaped like a cart. Urvīśu paused, recalling the bandit’s earlier words: “That offering was once given by me to Murari.” Therefore, he resolved, “This offering is not to be accepted by me in this life.” Remembering this, he decided to give the jaggery-made cart as an offering. He presented it to a Brahmin for the pleasure of Mādhava. Recognizing the bandit’s devotion, even though he was a great sinner, Janārdana was instantly pleased and removed all his sin. On that very day, the Brahmin entered the great forest. Soon after, Urvīśu was slain by the angry townspeople. Yet, the Lord sent a golden chariot, adorned with ornaments, along with divine messengers, to fetch Urvīśu’s soul. Placing him in the chariot, they carried him straight to the city of Hari, where he attained the blessed presence of the Lord, the best among the virtuous. After remaining there for a hundred ages, Urvīśu gained supreme knowledge and merged into the form of Hari. Vyāsa then declared: By whatever means a person cultivates devotion to Hari, he crosses the ocean of worldly existence just as a royal swan glides across water. Even if devotion to Hari arises for a single moment in someone’s mind, that person attains the supreme abode—even a sinner reaches there. If one offers even a single excellent thing to Murāri, one must later partake of it oneself to pacify one’s sins. Whatever is given to Hari should also be given to a Brahmin; what remains should not be consumed by oneself—this is always taught by the wise. O best of Brahmins, whatever desirable things there are, unless they are offered to Viṣṇu, they should not be consumed by Vaiṣṇavas. The greatness of Viṣṇu’s offerings lies in the destruction of all sin. Let me tell you another story to illustrate this, O Brahmin. There was once a Brahmin named Sarvajanī, born of a pure lineage. He was peaceful, self-controlled, compassionate, devoted to his teachers and to Brahmins. Ever devoted to the worship of Hari, intent on remembering Him, Sarvajanī relieved the sufferings of those who sought his refuge, spoke only the truth, and had mastered his senses.