If one seeks what is truly imperishable, it is right to give generously to those who are worthy. Wealth, too, should be gathered by righteous means, and sacrifices performed in accordance with one’s capacity. Let all actions be open and without hesitation, especially those that need not be hidden from the noble-hearted. Indeed, the pursuit of righteousness, wealth, and desire brings auspiciousness both in this world and beyond. Now, let me explain the sacred duties of the forest-dwelling stage of life. The forest-dweller sleeps upon the ground, practices celibacy, and faithfully performs the rites owed to ancestors, gods, and guests. He lives on the offerings of the forest—roots, fruits, and clarified butter—following the prescribed rule for those who have renounced the householder’s life. He maintains self-control within his dwelling, does not linger long in one place, and yearns for knowledge and realization of the self. Listen further, O night-wanderer, to the duties assigned to the various classes. The practices enjoined upon Kṣatriyas are also prescribed for the twice-born. But for the Śūdra, the supreme observance is the householder’s way of life, especially the practice to be performed at night. If one neglects this, the Sun himself becomes displeased. Yet, for the one who observes his night-time duties, the Sun labors on his behalf. But if a person abandons his proper duty, the Sun’s anger is again aroused. There was one who, reflecting deeply on righteousness, returned again and again to his own city. He summoned all the Rākṣasas and addressed them with words of dharma, speaking of charity, compassion, forbearance, celibacy, and humility. He reminded them that good conduct leads to the attainment of the next world, and so commanded all, without exception, to practice these virtues. With joyful hearts, they established this thirteenfold dharma. Blessed with sons, grandsons, and always in the company of their wives, they flourished. Yet, such was the power of their observances that the Sun, the Moon, and the stars were unable to move forth as they once did. By day, the Sun shone with the gentle light of the Moon, and at night, the Moon radiated the brilliance of the Sun. The people began to believe that the Moon was now the source of the greatest brilliance. O Brāhmaṇa, during the night, desiring to share their glory, the Moon and stars blossomed with light. But the crows, understanding this, would kill the Kauśikas by day, while at night, thinking it was day, the Kauśikas would remain submerged up to their necks, their minds fixed on me, proclaiming their devotion throughout the day. Life itself was abandoned in emptiness, with a cry on the riverbank, and the world was afflicted, for the light never set. Tormented by grief for her husband, one woman performed severe austerities. Because of her penance, the Moon was able to overcome the Sun, which now no longer set. Even at night, people continued to perform their rites—some for the Sun, some for the Moon, others for Brahma, and others for Hara. If the night was delightful, ever luminous with moonlight, he was worshipped with pure flowers and the most fragrant offerings. There is a second, called ‘Unempty Bed,’ which grants every desire—unempty, filled with great enjoyments, and with an undiminished crest of glory.