Therefore, it is taught that one who truly seeks the highest good should renounce the pursuit of wealth, for wealth is often the harbinger of misfortune. Even from a distance, it is best to turn away from such attachment. If one seeks wealth solely for the sake of dharma, then even greater is the merit in not pursuing it at all. It is wiser to avoid getting soiled by mud than to struggle to wash it off after contact; for the dharma gained through wealth is said to be fleeting and impermanent. True renunciation—especially when it is for the sake of another and involves personal loss—is a mark of liberation. Bharadvāja reflected: as time passes, our hair and teeth decay, and our eyes and ears lose their sharpness. Yet, the desire for wealth and the longing for life do not diminish with age; thirst for more remains unscathed, unyielding to the passage of years. This craving is like a thread drawn through the fabric of the world by the needle of desire, ever weaving the web of worldly existence. Like the horn on a beast, which grows as the body grows, so too does craving expand endlessly, insatiable and the source of countless sorrows. Because craving is filled with unrighteousness, it is wise to avoid it altogether. Gautama then spoke: “Who, being content, cannot overcome even the fruits of past actions?” For the one whose senses are greedy and restless, difficulties abound; but for the one whose mind is content, prosperity is found everywhere. Just as a person whose feet are shod in sandals can walk anywhere as if the earth itself were covered in leather, so too those who are satisfied with the nectar of contentment find peace and happiness wherever they go. But how can such happiness exist for those whose minds are ever restless, always chasing after wealth? Discontent is the greatest misery, while contentment is the highest happiness. Therefore, one who seeks true happiness should always remain content. Viśvāmitra added: “If a desire is fulfilled for one who longs for pleasure, another desire soon strikes him again, like an arrow. Desire is never satisfied by enjoyment; like a fire fed with ghee, it only grows stronger. The man who is deluded by longing for desires does not find happiness. Like a partridge that seeks shelter in the shade of a tree, unaware that a hawk dwells there, so too is the person who enjoys the pleasures of the earth—even up to the four oceans—never truly safe.” He who has achieved his purpose and sees no difference between stone and gold is truly accomplished, not a king. Jamadagni declared: “Even if one is able to accept gifts, he who refrains from doing so attains the eternal worlds reserved for the charitable. But a Brahmin who seeks wealth from a king is to be pitied by the wise. Such a person, blinded by desire, fails to see the torment that awaits in hell. Even if capable, one should not become attached to accepting gifts. By taking gifts, a Brahmin’s spiritual power is diminished; but those who refrain from accepting, even when able, attain the same worlds as those who give.” Indeed, the very worlds attained by the generous are also reached by those who do not accept gifts. Arundhati observed: “Just as a lotus fiber remains ever in water, so too does craving persist within the body—it is hard to abandon, especially for the foolish, and does not decay even as the body ages. That craving is like a terminal disease; happiness comes only to those who abandon it.” Then the Caṇḍāla spoke: “Because I fear those who are stronger than myself, O great gods, I am afraid both of the powerful and the weak.” The Friend of Animals added: “The wise should do only that which leads to their true welfare.” Having spoken thus, the sages relinquished their golden embryos, giving up the fruits of their actions. All the sages, steadfast in their vows, departed from that place and, wandering together, arrived at the middle Puṣkara. There, they suddenly encountered the wandering ascetic Śunaḥsakha, who had just arrived. Together with him, they ventured a little further into the forest, where they came upon a great lake, covered with lotuses and filled with clear water. Settling on its shore, they pondered what auspicious action they should undertake. Then Śunaḥsakha addressed the hungry sages: “Let each of us describe what the sensation of hunger is like.” The sages replied in unison: “The pain caused by weapons—spears, swords, maces, discs, axes, and arrows—can all be overcome, but hunger surpasses them all. The suffering caused by diseases such as asthma, leprosy, consumption, paralysis, fever, epilepsy, and colic does not exceed the torment of hunger. No golden ornaments—armlets, bracelets, crowns, or shining earrings—can bring radiance to one afflicted by hunger. Just as the sun’s rays draw up water from the earth, so too does the fire in the stomach dry up the channels of the body. One loses the ability to hear, smell, or see; he is burned, wasted, bewildered, and dried up by hunger. He cannot discern direction—east, south, west, or north, nor above nor below—when seized by hunger. Dumbness, deafness, dullness, and even lameness arise with hunger. Fierceness and lack of restraint are born of hunger. One may abandon father, mother, sons, wife, daughter, brother, or even kin when afflicted by hunger. He does not honor ancestors, gods, or even his teacher, nor does he recognize visiting sages when seized by hunger. Such are the conditions that befall embodied beings deprived of food.” Therefore, it is taught that one should give food with faith; by doing so, one becomes one with Brahman and rejoices in that unity. Whoever gives well-prepared food daily to a Brahmin, or recites the gift of food—especially at a śrāddha—does great good. With a concentrated mind, particularly on the new moon during the waning fortnight, when the śrāddha is performed in the presence of ancestral spirits, the merit of giving food is always heard and remembered.