Desiring happiness, a person should always remain content, for Viśvāmitra observed that when one longing for pleasure has a wish fulfilled, another desire quickly arises, piercing the heart like an arrow. No matter how much one indulges, desire is never satiated. Instead, like a fire fed with ghee, it only grows stronger. A man, deluded by his cravings, finds no true happiness. Enjoying the earth—even up to its four oceans—is likened to a partridge seeking shelter under a tree where a hawk waits: apparent security conceals danger. One who has achieved his purpose and regards stone and gold as equal is not called a king, but rather one who has transcended worldly distinctions. Jamadagni then explained that even if a person is capable of accepting gifts, by refusing them he attains the eternal worlds reserved for those who give. But a Brahmin who desires wealth from a king is pitied by the wise, for such a deluded soul fails to recognize the suffering and fear that lie in attachment to receiving gifts. Accepting gifts diminishes the spiritual power of a Brahmin, yet those who refrain from accepting, though capable, attain the same worlds as the givers. Thus, the worlds reached by those who give are equally attained by those who do not receive. Arundhati spoke: just as a lotus fiber always remains immersed in water, so too does craving persist endlessly within the body; it is difficult for the foolish to abandon, and does not diminish even as the body ages. This craving is like a terminal disease—happiness comes only to one who forsakes it. Then the Caṇḍāla voiced his fear: "O great gods, I am afraid of those stronger than myself, and even of the weak." The Friend of Animals advised, "Let the wise do only what brings their own welfare." With these teachings, the sages relinquished the golden embryos and the fruits, abandoning their attachments. Steadfast in their vows, all the sages departed, wandering until they reached the middle Puṣkara. There, they encountered the wandering ascetic Śunaḥsakha, who had just arrived. Together, they ventured further into the forest and found a great lake covered with lotuses, a reservoir of pure water. Settling on its shore, they contemplated their next auspicious action. Śunaḥsakha, seeing the sages were hungry, addressed them: "Let us each describe what hunger feels like." The sages replied in unison: "The pain caused by spears, swords, maces, discs, axes, and arrows—even that is surpassed by hunger. The suffering from diseases—like asthma, leprosy, consumption, paralysis, fever, epilepsy, and colic—does not exceed the torment of hunger. Golden armlets, bracelets, crowns, and shining earrings lose their luster upon those afflicted by hunger. Just as the sun’s rays draw up water from the earth, the fire of the stomach dries up the bodily channels. One cannot hear, smell, or see properly; he is burned, wasted, bewildered, and dried up by hunger. He cannot distinguish east, south, west, or north, nor perceive above or below. Dumbness, deafness, dullness, and even lameness arise; fierceness and lack of restraint surface in hunger. One abandons father, mother, sons, wife, daughter, brother, or even kin when afflicted by hunger. He neglects proper honor to ancestors, gods, and teachers, and fails to recognize even the sages who visit. Such are the conditions that befall embodied beings deprived of food." Therefore, it is taught, one should give food with faith. In doing so, a person becomes one with Brahman and rejoices in union with Brahman. Whoever daily gives well-prepared food to a Brāhmaṇa, or recites the gift of food—especially during a śrāddha—with concentrated mind at the new moon, when the śrāddha is performed in the presence of spirits, always brings joy to his ancestors. The ancestors are pleased with such a giver throughout his life; the one who offers in the presence of gods and the twice-born is released. Even those who listen to these teachings—whether attentive, careless, or by chance, and even without devotion—are freed from sin. Brahmins who practice giving are happy and share in righteousness. Restraint, self-control, and discipline are praised by those who see the truth. Especially for Brahmins, restraint is the eternal law. Restraint increases brilliance, and pure restraint is supreme. Through restraint, a person becomes free from evil and radiant. All disciplines and auspicious duties in the world are rooted in restraint, which surpasses even the fruits of sacrifice. Austerity, sacrifice, and giving arise from restraint alone. What use is the forest to one without restraint, or even an ashram to one who is restrained? Wherever a restrained person dwells, that place becomes a great hermitage, a sacred forest. For one with good conduct, self-controlled senses, and straightforward living, there is no need for ashrams. Even in the forest, faults arise for the passionate; in the home, restraining the five senses is true austerity. For one free from passion and acting without malice, the home itself becomes a forest of austerity. Those who earn their livelihood through righteous deeds, who are always content, attached to home, with controlled senses, fond of guests, and established in discipline—righteousness exists even in their home.