Once, on the lofty slopes of Mount Meru, Śuka, the pure-minded and devoted son of the sage Kṛṣṇadvaipāyana Vyāsa, approached his father with deep reverence. Yearning to understand the mysteries of existence, he asked, “O revered sage, how has this display of worldly existence come about? How does it subside? For whom, for how long, and when does it arise and end?” Vyāsa, who was steeped in the knowledge of the Self, responded to his son with all that was pure and appropriate, sharing what he himself had learned from his own father. Yet, Śuka, endowed with a clear and subtle intellect, did not consider these words to be many or weighty. Perceiving his son’s subtle intention, Vyāsa said to him, “Truly, I do not know this in its entirety.” He then directed Śuka, saying, “There is a king on earth named Janaka who knows this subject thoroughly. Go to him, and from him you will obtain all you seek.” Thus instructed, Śuka departed from Mount Sumeru and journeyed to the city of Videha, ruled by the great king Janaka. Upon his arrival, the gatekeepers announced to Janaka, “O King, Śuka, the son of Vyāsa, stands at the gate.” Wishing to test Śuka, Janaka, with deliberate indifference, instructed that he be kept waiting and remained silent for seven days. After this period, Janaka had Śuka brought into the palace courtyard, where he remained, absorbed in contemplation, for another seven days, again without any acknowledgment from the king. Then, Janaka brought Śuka into the inner chambers, but for yet another seven days, did not appear before him. During this time, Janaka arranged for Śuka—whose countenance was radiant as the moon—to be surrounded by delightful women, sumptuous food, and all manner of enjoyments. Yet, to Śuka, these pleasures were as sorrows to his mind; not even a gentle breeze could move him, just as a mountain anchored firmly is unmoved. He remained tranquil, pure, silent, and content—complete in himself, like the full moon. Recognizing the true nature of Śuka’s mind, Janaka finally had him brought before him. Seeing Śuka, Janaka bowed joyfully, having fulfilled all his worldly duties and attained every desire, and welcomed him warmly: “What is it that you seek?” Janaka then asked, “O teacher, how has this display of worldly existence arisen, and how does true peace come about? Please tell me clearly and without delay.” Thus questioned, Śuka replied just as his noble father had previously explained to him, saying, “I myself have discerned this through my own understanding, and when my father questioned me, I answered only this much. O best of speakers, you too have spoken this very meaning, and this is exactly what is found in the scriptures: Just as this world, arising from one’s own imagination, is dissolved by the cessation of that imagination, so is the certainty that the burned-out world is empty of essence. Therefore, O mighty-armed one, tell me truly and purely: from you my mind finds rest—let it not wander in the world.” Janaka replied, “There is no higher or further certainty than this, O sage; you have known this yourself, and have also heard it again from your teacher. Here, only the undivided consciousness-self exists, nothing else; one is bound by the force of thought, and freed when thought ceases. Whoever knows this clearly, that great soul becomes dispassionate toward all enjoyments and all that is seen. And for you, O mighty hero, your mind has attained dispassion from enjoyments and from long-standing afflictions; what else is there for you to ask?” Janaka continued, “Such fullness has not arisen even for your father, who remains in vast austerity and is a great treasure of all-knowingness, as it has for you. I am even greater than Vyāsa, though I am his disciple and son; yet, because your desire for enjoyment is so diminished, you surpass even me here. You have attained all that is to be attained, with a mind fully complete; you do not fall into the visible world, O Brahman, you are liberated—abandon delusion.” Thus instructed by the great-souled Janaka, Śuka rested silently in the pure, supreme reality. Free from sorrow, fear, and fatigue, indifferent and with all doubts severed, he ascended the flawless summit of Meru for the purpose of meditation. There, for a thousand years, he remained in deep absorption without conceptualization, like a lamp without oil, resting in himself. With all traces of mental activity and impurity gone, pure in his own stainless self, the great soul entered the state of unity, like a drop of water merging into the ocean. O Rāma, for the son of Vyāsa, cleansing the intellect is used only as much as needed, and only for its purpose. By this, everything is known, O lord of the earth; pleasures do not delight him, just as diseases do not please the wise. This is truly the mark of one whose mind has known what is to be known: all arrays of pleasures no longer delight him. It is by the imagination of enjoyment that bondage, rooted in unreality, becomes firm; and by the pacification of that same imagination, bondage in the world becomes thin. Rāma, the thinning of desires is called liberation by the wise; the firmness of desire for objects is called bondage. Most people, after approaching the knowledge of the Self, soon again develop aversion to sense objects, though only with difficulty. He who truly sees is wise; he who knows both the knower and the known is learned; to such a great soul, enjoyments do not taste sweet, even if forced upon him.