Once upon a time in Mithila in the realm of Videha there was a king named Makhadeva, who ruled righteously. For successive periods of eighty-four thousand years he had respectively amused himself as prince, ruled as viceroy, and ruled as king. All these long years had he lived, when one day he said to his barber, “Tell me; when you see any grey hairs in my head.” So one day, years and years after, the barber did find a single grey hair, and he told the king so. The king said,“Pull it out and lay it in my palm.” The barber accordingly plucked the hair out and laid it in the king’s hand. The king had at that time still eighty-four thousand years more to live; but nevertheless at the sight of that one grey hair he was filled with deep emotion. He seemed to see the King of Death standing over him, or to be cooped within a blazing hut of leaves. He cried: “Foolish Makhadeva! grey hairs have come upon you before you have been able to rid yourself of depravities.” And as he thought and thought about the appearance of his grey hair, he grew aflame within; the sweat rolled down from his body; whilst his raiment oppressed him and seemed intolerable. King Makhadeva thought,“This very day I will renounce the world for the Brother’s life.”