At the urging of his priests, the king of the Daityas cast his own son out from the sacred assembly of fire. Banished from his father’s presence, the boy took up residence in the house of his teacher. There, amidst the lessons and routines, he did not remain silent; instead, he repeatedly gathered the other Daitya youths and began to instruct them, weaving his teachings into the fabric of their daily learning. He addressed them earnestly: “Listen to my highest teaching, O sons of Diti, O Daityas. Do not think I speak from greed or any selfish motive; I seek only your true welfare. Consider this: after birth and childhood, every being inevitably reaches youth, and then, day by day, without hindrance, old age arrives. Following that, O sons of the Daitya king, death approaches—this is a truth seen by all, by you and by me alike. And know this: for those who die, rebirth is certain. Such is the tradition, and there is no arising without a cause. From the time a soul dwells in the womb, through birth and all the way to the next rebirth, every stage is pervaded by suffering. The end of hunger or thirst, or relief from cold and discomfort, may seem like happiness to the childish mind, but in truth, these are merely the cessation of pain, and thus are suffering too. For those whose bodies are inert, who seek pleasure through exertion, whose senses are clouded by delusion—even a blow may seem pleasurable to them. What, after all, is this body? It is simply a mass of phlegm and other impurities. Where, then, is its beauty, radiance, fragrance, or charm? If a fool delights in a body made of flesh, blood, pus, veins, urine, sinews, marrow, and bones, then surely he would also find joy in hell itself. Fire is calmed by cold, thirst by water, hunger by food—but if you think these bring happiness, it is actually the opposite. As long as one clings to attachment, one brings suffering upon one’s own mind. Each beloved connection a creature forms in his heart becomes another shaft of sorrow driven into that same heart. Wherever one’s mind is fixed—upon whatever in the home—there, destruction, burning, and loss will surely abide. In every birth, suffering is great, and so it is for the dying, in the torments of Yama and the passage through the womb. Even the slightest trace of happiness in the womb can only be guessed at—if that is so, then truly, this whole world is filled with suffering. In this ocean of existence, which is itself the very abode of suffering, it is rightly said that Viṣṇu alone is the supreme refuge. We are but children, and do not realize that the embodied soul is eternal, while old age, youth, and birth are properties of the body, not of the true self. In childhood, I thought, ‘I will strive for good when I am young.’ In youth, ‘I will do what is beneficial for myself when I am old.’ But when old age comes, all actions are beyond my reach—what can I do then, dull-minded as I am, when I failed to act while I was able? Thus, a person whose mind is always distracted by vain hopes never turns toward the good, like one who is constantly thirsty. In childhood, one is attached to play; in youth, drawn to sense pleasures; led by ignorance and weakness, old age suddenly arrives. Therefore, one who is discerning should always strive for the good, even in childhood, unbound by the states of childhood, youth, or old age. This is what I have told you. If you understand, you will see it is not false. For my satisfaction, O Daityas, remember Viṣṇu, the One who grants both bondage and liberation. What effort is there in remembering Him, whose very remembrance brings auspiciousness? The destruction of sin comes to those who remember Him without ceasing. May your minds be filled with friendship, day and night, toward Him who dwells in all beings—thus will you cast off all suffering. Who among the wise grieves for beings afflicted by the threefold miseries of this world? Even though I am weak, I should still rejoice at the good of others, for sorrow only leads to loss. If beings, bound by enmity, cause sorrow, the wise know that those overwhelmed by such delusion are truly to be pitied. I have described the various opinions of the Daityas, arising from differing views; having heard them, now listen to my summary: This entire universe is the expansion of Viṣṇu, who pervades all beings; therefore, the wise see it as non-different from themselves. So let us, both you and I, abandon the demonic disposition and strive together for the attainment of supreme bliss. That which is the true self cannot be destroyed—neither by fire, nor by the sun, nor by the moon, nor by wind or rain, nor by Varuṇa, nor by Siddhas or Rākṣasas, nor by Yakṣas, nor by the lords of Daityas, nor by serpents, nor by Kinnaras, nor by humans, nor by animals, nor by faults, nor by anything arising from oneself. Fever, eye diseases, diarrhea, spleen disorders, abdominal tumors, and the like, as well as impurities such as envy, dullness, coldness, or those born of passion and greed—all these cause decline. Yet, by no other means is the true self ever destroyed, for it is absolutely pure. One who abandons it, with Keśava not established in the heart, acquires impurity. Do not delight in what is insubstantial or in the ever-changing nature of what seems substantial. I urge you: everywhere, O Daityas, cultivate equanimity, for equanimity is itself the worship of the Imperishable One. When He is pleased, what cannot be attained—whether righteousness, wealth, or desire? Those who take refuge under the supreme tree of Brahman will surely obtain the great, endless fruit. Now, seeing the boy’s acts of charity and fearing the wrath of the Daitya king, some reported these deeds to the king. Summoning the cooks in haste, the king spoke harshly: “O cooks, this son of mine, and others with him, are of wicked mind. He is a corrupt guide, evil—let him be killed without delay.