In the illustrious city of Kampilya, two eminent Brahmins, sons of Vibhrāja, aspired to serve as ministers. Among them, one was known as Brahmadatta. Their sons, Puṇḍarīka and Subāla, followed in their footsteps. Brahmadatta himself was consecrated as king of Kampilya, and he ruled the Panchalas with valor and devotion, honoring his ancestors through the performance of śrāddha. At that time, Brahmadatta was not only a mighty king but also a knower of yoga, gifted with the ability to understand the minds of all beings. The king’s wife was Sannati, the daughter of Sudeva, renowned for her lineage tracing back to Kapila. Sannati, deeply engaged in her ancestral duties, became learned in the Vedas, and together with her, the king’s son governed the kingdom. One day, Brahmadatta and Sannati visited a garden. There, the king observed a pair of insects—ants—locked in a quarrel born of love. The male ant stood before the female, whose mouth was lowered and whose body seemed scorched by the arrows of Kāma, the god of love. With a faltering voice, he addressed her: “Nowhere in the world is there a lover like you. Slender in the middle, with a wide mouth, you move with great grace. Your color resembles gold, your face is beautiful and smiling, and your mouth appears as sweet as jaggery and sugar. When I eat, you eat; when I bathe, you bathe. When I am away, you are sorrowful, and when I am angry, you are restless with fear.” He then asked, “Tell me, lovely one, why do you always keep your face downward?” Burning with anger, the female ant replied, “Why do you speak thus, O deceitful one? You ate the sweetmeat powder, leaving me aside; you gave it away, and then, disregarding me, you became enamored with another.” The male ant explained, “Because she resembled you, O fair-complexioned one, I gave it to another. Please forgive me this one offense, O beautiful one. I will not do so again; give up your anger, O lovely-breasted one. I touch your feet in truth—be gracious to me, who am bowed before you. If you are angry, O beautiful-hipped one, death stands before me; if you are pleased, O lovely-thighed one, all my desires are fulfilled. Always drink fully from my face, which is like the full moon and as sweet as nectar, for I am ever attached to love. Understanding this, you should always show compassion to me in auspicious deeds.” Hearing his words, the female ant was pleased. She offered herself for enchantment, and Brahmadatta, who witnessed all this, smiled gently. He understood the speech of all beings, a gift granted by the power of his previous actions. Bhishma, curious, asked, “How did King Brahmadatta gain this wondrous ability to know the speech of all beings? And where did the four chakravaka birds come from, and of what family and virtue?” Pulastya replied, “In that very city, O king, the chakravaka birds were born. They were sons of an aged Brahmin, wise and steadfast, remembering their past births, perceivers of truth, learned, noble in character, and devoted to austerity. Though their father was poor, these twice-born sons turned their minds toward asceticism. They declared, ‘We will attain the highest perfection.’ Hearing this, their father Sudaridra, a great ascetic, spoke with a distressed voice, ‘What is this, my sons? Is it righteous to abandon your old, poor, forest-dwelling father? What will become of me once you have left?’” The sons reassured him, “Father, a livelihood has been arranged for you. This vow was once that of a king; he will give you abundant wealth—thousands of villages—when you recite in the morning. The Brahmins at Kurukshetra, hunters at Dashapura, animals at Kalanjara, and chakravaka birds at Manasa—” With these words, they departed for the forest to pursue asceticism, leaving their father behind. Despite his age, the Brahmin sought to accomplish his own purpose. At that time, there was a king named Anuha, lord of the Panchalas. Desiring a son, Anuha worshipped the Lord of gods, the lotus-born grandsire, with intense vows and devotion. After a long time, the grandsire was pleased and appeared before him, saying, “Choose a boon, O king.” Anuha requested, “Grant me a son of great strength and valor, accomplished in all knowledge, righteous, foremost among yogis—a son who knows the speech of all beings and is a yogi.” The Lord of all, the soul of the universe, said, “So be it,” and vanished before the eyes of all. Thereafter, Brahmadatta was born to Anuha, endowed with great prowess, compassion toward all creatures, surpassing all beings in strength, understanding the speech of all beings, and lord of all lords of beings. United with virtue, this yogic soul, Brahmadatta, approached the ant, where the pair of insects was found enjoying each other. Seeing Brahmadatta smiling in amazement, Sannati, suspecting something, questioned him, “O king, why did you suddenly laugh? I do not know the reason for this laughter, which you made at such a time.” Brahmadatta replied, “O lovely-faced one, this laughter arose from the speech of the ant, which was produced out of passion and tastelessness.” Thus, the story unfolds, revealing Brahmadatta’s extraordinary gifts, his compassion, and the mysterious ways of fate and virtue that shaped his life and the lives of those around him.