Listen, for what I shall recount to you is sin-destroying, meritorious, and always bestows prosperity. Long ago, in the ancient Rāthantara Kalpa, there lived a lord of the earth—a king renowned for his righteousness, noble heart, and great valor. This king was impartial to all, whether enemy, son, or friend, and deeply understood the duties that belonged to others. He had a wife who was exceedingly dear to him, more precious even than his own life. When their child was born, she held the infant close to her heart, embracing him in her lap with profound love. Remarkably, this child, blessed with the memory of his previous births, remained quietly nestled in his mother’s arms. One day, as she gazed upon her son, she noticed a mysterious smile upon his face. Troubled, she asked him, “My child, what is this smile? What are you thinking?” The child, wise beyond his years, replied, “Mother, everyone pursues their own interests. There are those who, unseen, become the second to steal away a newborn. Out of love for your son, you too now seek your own advantage. When a child is born, even women, out of affection and confusion, become agitated. See, the greedy cat, intent on her own gain, watches me closely. And you, in time, wish to enjoy the fruits that come from me. Yet know, the bond with children does not last beyond five or seven days.” Hearing these words, his mother protested, “My dear child, you speak falsely! I do not embrace you out of desire for some benefit, but from pure affection.” Having said this, she left the birthing chamber, leaving the child behind. Then, the child—who still remembered his past life—was taken up by another woman, who believed him to be her own son. The mighty king also took this child, thinking him his own. In this way, the son of Vikranta was taken, as was the son of the twice-born Bodha. But the third, the son of Bodha, was devoured by a night-wandering demoness. In time, with the teacher’s permission, salutations were to be performed. The question arose: Which mother should be honored—the one who gave birth or the one who raised the child? Was not this noble lady, the daughter of Janaka, his birth mother? Ānanda explained, “She is the mother who gave birth in the month of Caitra, and this is Caitra, in the house of a twice-born.” But the teacher asked, “Who are you, and who is this Caitra of whom you speak?” Confusion reigned. “I know nothing; my thoughts are bewildered,” was the reply. “Who is whose son, O sage among brāhmaṇas, and who is not related to whom?” Thus, the nature of worldly existence confounds all, and worldly life is the lot of living beings here. In truth, on earth, she was the daughter of the wicked, unbearable son of Brahmā. The child realized, “I have obtained two mothers in this very birth. Therefore, I shall perform austerity; bring Caitra here.” Turning away from attachment, he considered all accordingly. He who had been honored and cared for as a son by the brāhmaṇa was protected. There, in the west, stood the supreme liṅga of the god Indreśvara. As the child practiced austerity, the god spoke to him, saying, “You must act according to the sixth Manu; go and do that.” Thus addressed by the Lord of gods, the wise one replied, “So be it.” By worshipping that liṅga, he gained sons. And, O goddess, because of this, he attained a most difficult accomplishment, filled with joy.