A Summary of the Story of Ästéka 
Çaunaka said: 
Please tell me why that tiger among kings, Mahäräja Janamejaya, tried to kill all the snakes in a snake sacrifice. And why did that excellent chanter of mantras, Ästéka, the best of the twice-born, liberate the snakes from the sacrificial fire? Whose son was that king who performed the snake sacrifice? And please tell me whose son was Ästéka, the best of the twice-born? 
Süta Gosvämé said: 
O best of speakers, hear from me the great story of Ästéka, in which all your questions will be fully answered. 
Çaunaka said: 
I want to hear in detail this fascinating story of Ästéka, the illustrious brähmaëa of old. 
Süta Gosvämé said: 
The elders who dwell here in Naimiñäraëya relate this ancient history narrated by Çréla Vyäsa. My father, Romaharñaëa Süta, a learned disciple of Vyäsa, formerly narrated this story at the request of the brähmaëas. Because you have similarly requested me, Çaunaka, I will narrate the story of Ästéka exactly as I heard it. 
Ästéka's father was a powerful sage, equal in strength to the prajä-patis, the progenitors who rule mankind. He was celibate, strictly controlling his senses, and he always engaged in performing severe austerities. Known as Jaratkäru, he elevated his seminal power and nourished his brain, thus becoming a great sage. This eminent religious scholar, unflinching in his vows, was a descendant of the family of Yäyävara. 
Once while walking about he saw his forefathers hanging upside down over a great hole. Seeing them in such a condition, Jaratkäru asked, «Who are you, dear sirs, and why are you hanging face down over this hole? You are held by a mere clump of grass, which is being eaten away on all sides by an elusive rat who always stays in the hole.» 
The forefathers said: 
We are the Yäyävaras, sages strict in our vows. By the destruction of our family line, O brähmaëa, we are now forced to enter into the earth. Our last living descendant is known as Jaratkäru, but we are so unfortunate that our unlucky descendant cares only for the ascetic life. That foolish one does not want to take a wife and beget good children, preferring rather to allow our family line to perish. Therefore we are hanging over this hole. Because of such a guardian of our family tradition, we must hang here helpless like common criminals. Who are you, noble sir, and why do you worry about us as if you were our own kin? We want to know, dear brähmaëa, who are you who stand here before us? Why should you be so kind to wretched persons like us? 
Jaratkäru said: 
You are indeed my own forebears–my fathers and grandfathers. Tell me what I may do for you now, for I myself am Jaratkäru! 
The forefathers said: 
For your own sake and for ours as well, strive with great effort, dear boy, to preserve our family line. That, O lord, is your actual duty. In this world, O son, neither by the fruits of virtue nor by heaps of austerities can one attain the rewards earned by the parents of good children. Dear child, by our order, put all your effort into finding a wife and make up your mind to continue our family. That for us is the highest good. 
Jaratkäru said: 
Although my mind has always been fixed on never taking a wife, for your welfare I will marry. I shall do so, however, only if I find a wife under certain conditions, and not otherwise. I shall accept with proper rites a virgin girl bearing my same name, and only one who is happily given by her family in charity. I doubt that anyone would entrust a wife to one as poor as I am. But if someone will do it, I shall accept the offering of alms. My dear forefathers, I shall continually endeavor to find a wife according to this stipulation, and not otherwise. Surely a child born from such a marriage will deliver all of you. Attaining then the eternal abode, may my forefathers rejoice! 
Süta Gosvämé said: 
That brähmaëa, strict in his vows, then wandered about the earth searching for a wife with whom to share a home. But he could not find a suitable woman. Once, entering a forest and recalling the words of his forefathers, he slowly cried out three times, «I am begging a wife in charity!» 
At that time, the serpent Väsuki offered his sister to Jaratkäru, but he did not accept her, naturally assuming that she had a different name. «I can only take a wife who has my same name and who is offered freely,» thought the great soul Jaratkäru, his mind fixed. The very wise ascetic then said to Väsuki, «Tell me the truth, O serpent, what is your sister's name?» 
Väsuki said: 
My dear Jaratkäru, Jaratkäru is also the name of my young sister, whom we have been keeping for you. O best of the twice-born, please accept her! 
Süta Gosvämé said: 
O best of Vedic scholars, the snakes had been cursed earlier by their mother, who had declared, «Driven by the wind, the sacred fire shall burn you all at Janamejaya's sacrifice.» 
To appease that curse, the greatest of the serpents, Väsuki, presented his sister to the ascetic sage, who faithfully kept his vows. And thus Jaratkäru married her according to the authorized rites. A son of the name Ästéka was born of that woman and her exalted husband. That great-souled child was to become both an ascetic and a great master of the Vedic scriptures. Fair-minded and equal to all, he drove away his parents' fear. 
We hear from authorities that long, long after the race of snakes had been cursed by their own mother, the descendant of Päëòu, King Janamejaya, commenced a great offering known as the Sacrifice of Snakes. But when the sacrifice meant to annihilate all serpents was proceeding, the widely celebrated Ästéka freed the snakes from their curse. He saved the Nägas, his maternal uncles, and many other snakes who were related to him through his mother, and he also rescued his father's relatives by continuing their family line. By his austerities, his religious vows, and his profound Vedic studies, he became free of his many obligations. He satisfied the demigods with sacrifices of diverse remuneration, the sages by his celibacy and study, and his forefathers with progeny. Having removed the heavy burden carried by his forefathers, Jaratkäru, resolute of vow, thereafter accompanied them to the heavenly planets. Having thus obtained Ästéka as his son and having accumulated unequaled religious merit, the thoughtful Jaratkäru went to the heavenly abode after a very long life. Thus have I duly recounted the story of Ästéka. O tiger of the Bhågus, what is to be narrated next? 
The Birth of Garuòa 
Çaunaka said: 
O Süta, please recite again in detail this story of the intelligent saint Ästéka, for we yearn to hear it. You recite these histories so nicely and with such graceful sounds and language that we are all very pleased, my son, with your presentation. You are a gentle man and speak just like your father. Indeed, your sire spoke in a way that always satisfied our desire to hear. So now, please speak as your father did! 
Süta Gosvämé said: 
O long-lived Çaunaka, I shall tell you the story of Ästéka exactly as my father recited it in my presence. 
Long ago, in the godly millennium, Prajäpati Dakña had two brilliant and sinless daughters, amazing sisters who were gifted with great beauty. Named Kadrü and Vinatä, they both became wives of the primordial sage Käçyapa, a husband who was equal in glory to the Prajäpati. Being pleased with his religious wives, Käçyapa, with much happiness, offered them both a boon. Hearing of Käçyapa's joyful intention to let them choose an extraordinary boon, the two excellent women felt an incomparable joy. 
Kadrü chose to create one thousand serpent sons, all of equal strength, and Vinatä hankered to have two sons who would exceed all of Kadrü's sons in stamina, strength, valor, and spiritual influence. Her husband awarded her only one and a half of these desired sons, knowing that she could not have more. Vinatä then said to Käçyapa, «Let me have at least one superior son.» 
Vinatä felt that her purpose was satisfied and that somehow both sons would be of superior strength. Kadrü too felt her purpose fulfilled, since she would have one thousand sons of equal prowess. Both wives were delighted with their boons. Then Käçyapa, that mighty ascetic, urging them to carry their embryos with utmost care, retired to the forest. 
After a long time Kadrü produced one thousand eggs, O leader of brähmaëas, and Vinatä produced two eggs. Their delighted assistants placed the two sisters' eggs in moist vessels, where they remained for five hundred years. When the years had passed, the sons of Kadrü hatched from their eggs, but from Vinatä's two eggs her two sons were not to be seen. That austere and godly woman, anxious to have children, was ashamed. Thus Vinatä broke open one egg and saw therein her son. Authorities say that the upper half of the child's body was fully developed, but the lower half was not yet well formed. 
Furious that his natural growth had been thus interrupted, the son cursed his mother, Vinatä: «You were so greedy for a son, mother, that you have caused me to be deformed and weak. Therefore you shall lose your freedom and for five hundred years remain the maidservant of the very woman you sought to rival. Your other son will free you from servitude–that is, mother, if you don't break his egg and ruin his body and limbs, as you did mine. If you truly desire to get a son of unique prowess, then you must patiently await his birth, which will come after another five hundred years.» 
Having thus cursed his mother, Vinatä, the son flew into outer space, where he is always seen, O brähmaëa, as Aruëa, the reddish light of dawn. In due course of time the mighty Garuòa, consumer of snakes, took birth. As soon as he appeared, O tiger of the Bhågus, he left Vinatä and flew up into the sky, famished, ready to take his meal of eatables as ordained by the creator. 
The Churning of the Ocean 
Süta Gosvämé continued: 
O sage rich in austerity, at this time the two sisters saw coming toward them the stallion Uccaiùçravä, whom all the gods joyfully honor, the supreme jewel among horses, born from the churning of nectar. That ageless celestial steed, who bore all the auspicious marks, was beautiful and immensely powerful; indeed, he was the finest of horses and the best of the swift. 
Çaunaka said: 
How and where did the demigods churn this nectar from which the king of horses, of such unusual strength and luster, took birth? Please tell us! 
Süta Gosvämé replied: 
There is a glowing mountain called Meru, which is bathed in its own radiance. Fine beyond all other mountains, it subdues the sun's light with its dazzling golden peaks. Indeed, it is like a wondrous golden ornament. Popular with gods and Gandharvas, it is immeasurable and can be approached only by those who are abundantly righteous. Awesome beasts of prey frequent that great mountain, and heavenly herbs illumine it. Standing tall, it spreads up and over the vault of heaven. Unattainable by most, lying beyond even their imagination, this mountain, rich in rivers and forests, resounds with the songs of the most charming varieties of birds. 
Scaling its bright and gem-studded peak, which rises almost forever upward, all the mighty demigods once met atop the Meru Mount. The inhabitants of heaven came together and, seated in council, began to discuss how they might obtain the celestial nectar. To evoke blessings on their cause they rigidly observed religious rules and austerities. As the gods thus meditated and discussed the matter in every conceivable way, the Supreme Lord Näräyaëa spoke to Lord Brahmä: «The demigods and demons together must churn the waters of the ocean basin, for only when the great ocean is churned will the immortal nectar come forth. Churn the ocean, O gods, and you will certainly obtain every healing herb and all manner of jewels, and in the end you shall have nectar.» 
Süta Gosvämé continued: 
Having decided to use Mandara Mountain as a churning rod, the gods thereupon went to that excellent mountain, which was adorned with soaring peaks and crowds of towering clouds. Lush with tangled creepers, vibrating with the songs of many types of birds, and alive with many species of tusked and toothy beasts, Mandara Mountain was a popular resort for the Kinnaras, Apsaräs, and even the gods themselves. It stretches up to a height of eleven thousand yojanas, or eighty-eight thousand miles, and its foundations extend just as many miles below the earth. The demigods wanted to take that mountain to use as a churning rod, but together they could not lift it. So they approached the seated Lord Viñëuö and Lord Brahmä and said to them, «May you two Lords kindly fix your good minds on our ultimate welfare, and for our sake let an effort be made to lift Mandara Mountain!» 
«So be it!» said Lord Viñëu, and Lord Brahmä agreed, O Bhargava. Encouraged by Lord Brahmä and ordered by Lord Näräyaëa, the mighty Ananta then rose up to assume the great task. O brähmaëa, by His strength the mighty Ananta lifted up that lord of mountains with all its forests and forest creatures. The gods then accompanied Lord Ananta to the ocean and said to the mighty sea, «We shall churn your waters to obtain immortal nectar.» 
The lord of waters replied, «If you save me a portion of the nectar, I shall tolerate the heavy pounding of the twisting churning rod, Mount Mandara.» 
The gods and demons together then said to the tortoise king, Aküpära, «the unlimited,» «You, sir, should kindly serve as the resting place for Mount Mandara.» 
The tortoise agreed and freely offered his back. Lord Indra then pressed down the mountain's peak with a tool, and fashioning Mount Mandara into a churning rod and using the celestial serpent Väsuki as a churning rope, the gods began to churn the vast waters of the sea. The Daityas and Dänavas were also anxious to drink the nectar, O brähmaëa, and thus they too began to churn. The great demons held one end of Väsuki, the king of serpents, and, joining together, the demigods stood at the tail. 
Lord Ananta, a plenary expansion of the Personality of Godhead, stood by Lord Näräyaëa, who is also a plenary manifestation of the Supreme Godhead. Again and again Lord Ananta lifted the serpent's head and threw it down. Being forcefully pulled up and down by the demigods as well, Väsuki repeatedly belched fire and smoke. The billows of smoke turned into clouds and poured rain and lightning upon the demigods, who were already weak from the heat of their labors. From the highest peak on the mountain, showers of flowers rained down and scattered garlands everywhere, on gods and demons alike. 
Then, as the gods and demons churned the ocean with Mount Mandara, a deep sound arose from within the sea like the mighty rumbling of thunder in the clouds. Variegated water creatures were smashed by the great mountain, and by the hundreds they met with destruction in the salty sea. The world-bearing mount brought the dwellers of the cosmic depths. varieties of beings under the rule of sea-god Varuëa, to their destruction. As the mountain continued to whirl, huge trees, stocked with birds, crashed into one another and tumbled down from its peaks. The friction from the falling trees generated a fire, whose swift tongues of flame swarmed Mandara Mountain like electric bolts of lightning surrounding bluish rainclouds. 
The fire burned even the mighty elephants and lions, who fled its flames. All kinds of creatures gave up their mortal bodies in that blaze. As the fire burned all around, the best of the demigods, Lord Indra, extinguished it with rain showers. Thereupon, varieties of herbal juices and resins from mighty trees flowed from Mount Mandara into the ocean. Indeed, from the milk of these juices, endowed with the virility of nectar, and from the flowing of molten gold, the gods would attain immortal status. But now the water of the ocean mixed with the finest of juices and turned into milk, and from that milk came butter. 
The demigods then spoke to Lord Brahmä, the boon-giver, who was sitting before them, «We are utterly exhausted, and still the divine nectar does not come out of the sea. Except for God, Näräyaëa, all of us, including the Daityas and the strongest Nägas, have no more strength. We have been churning the ocean for so very long.» 
Brahmä then spoke these words to Lord Näräyaëa: «My dear Lord Viñëu, please grant them strength, for You are their only shelter.» 
Lord Viñëu replied, «I do hereby grant strength to all who have seriously undertaken this task. Let everyone shake the waters! Let everyone whirl the Mandara Mountain round!» 
Süta Gosvämé said: 
When the demigods and Daityas heard the words of Lord Näräyaëa, their strength was renewed, and joining together, they powerfully churned the milk of the great ocean. Thereupon the cool-rayed moon, shining with a sublime effulgence, rose up from the ocean like a second sun with hundreds and thousands of rays. 
Next the goddess of fortune, clad in white garments, arose from the clarified butter of the milk ocean, and then the goddess of liquor, and then a swift white steed. And the divine Kaustubha gem, gorgeous and radiant and meant for the chest of Lord Näräyaëa, was born from the nectar. The goddess of fortune, the goddess of liquor, the moon, and the white horse, who was as fast as the mind, all went on the path of the sun, to where the gods stood. 
Then the handsome Lord Dhanvantari rose up from the ocean carrying a white kamaëòalu pot, which held the immortal nectar. Seeing this great wonder, loud shouts arose from the demons. 
«It's mine! It's mine!» they cried, clamoring for the nectar, but Lord Näräyaëa engaged His mystic potency and, assuming a stunningly beautiful feminine form, boldly went amid the demons. This enchanting feminine incarnation, Mohiëé-mürti, bewildered the minds of the demons, and thus all the Daityas and Dänavas became so attached to Her that without hesitation they presented Her with the nectar. 
Süta Gosvämé continued: 
[Then, realizing they had been tricked,] the allied Daityas and Dänavas grabbed their finest shields and different kinds of weapons and rushed the demigods. But the almighty Godhead, Viñëu, having removed the nectar from the best of the Dänavas, successfully held it with the help of Nara (the Lord's eternal friend and devotee), and the hosts of demigods, having obtained the immortal nectar from the hands of the Lord, drank it in the midst of a bewildering uproar. 
Yet as the demigods drank the nectar they had longed for, the Dänava Rähu, disguised as a demigod, also began gulping it down. When the nectar reached the Dänava's throat, the sun and the moon, desiring to help the demigods, sounded the alarm. Even as Rähu imbibed the nectar, therefore, the blessed Lord, who wields the disc weapon, forcefully sliced off his decorated head with that whirling disc. The great head of the Dänava, severed by the disc, fell to the ground like a granite mountain peak, shaking the earth's surface. Since that time, there has existed a persistent enmity between Rähu's head, which subsequently became a planet in the sky, and the sun and the moon. Thus even to the present day, during lunar and solar eclipses, the planet Rähu is attempting to swallow his two longstanding rivals. 
Lord Hari then relinquished His unique feminine form and in His original spiritual body caused the Dänavas to shake and tremble with His many awesome weapons. Near the ocean's shore a great battle, more frightening than any other, then ensued between the gods and the demons. Broad-bladed missiles and razor-barbed darts fell in cascades by the thousands and found their marks. So also did razor-tipped javelins, swords, knives, and variegated tools of destruction. Slashed by the Lord's disc and wounded by swords, spears, and clubs, the Asuras fell to the ground, vomiting blood profusely. In that ferocious fight, trident-severed heads fell continuously on the battlefield like streams of molten gold. The stalwart demons, their limbs smeared with blood, lay crushed on the battlefield like mountain peaks oozing the dyes and pigments of minerals. Cries of distress arose everywhere as the foes cut each other to pieces with slashing weapons beneath a reddened sun. As they slew one another on the battlefield with bronze and iron bludgeons, and at close quarters with fists, the uproar ascended to the heavens. 
«Cut them!» «Pierce him!» «Rush them!» «Bring them down!» «Charge now!» These were the terrifying sounds heard all around. Just as the battle reached its deadliest and most tumultuous intensity, Lords Nara and Näräyaëa charged into the fray. 
Lord Viñëu, Näräyaëa, seeing His blessed devotee Nara wield his celestial bow, at once invoked His disc, which devastates the demons. No sooner did He remember His weapon than there came from the sky a second sun, the great light of the disc, the razor-rimmed Sudarçana, tormenting the foe, awesome, invincible, and supreme. It entered the Lord's infallible hand, the flaming disc of terrifying effulgence, and with His arms, like the trunks of elephants, the Lord released it. It hovered eerily in the air, shining greatly, then suddenly rushed with heart-stopping speed into the thickest ranks of the enemy and shattered them to oblivion. 
Sudarçana Cakra shone like death's own special blaze. Again and again it fiercely fell upon the foe and ripped to shreds by the thousands the demonic offspring of Diti and Danu. For in this battle it sprang from the hand of the Supreme Personality Himself. 
All around it burned and licked like fire and forcibly cut down the demonic legions. Hurtling through sky and earth like a luminous specter, the Cakra drank the blood of battle. 
Still the demons would not relent, and with their awesome strength they took to the skies, wherein they shone like white clouds, and punished the gods by hurling mountains upon them. Like masses of clouds, great forested mountains came hurtling down from the sky, breeding panic and terror as they collided tumultuously, their severed peaks and ridges pulverized. 
With huge mountains crashing down all over her surface, the earth with all her forests shook and trembled as both sides stormed each other unceasingly on the raging field of battle. 
Then with mighty arrows tipped with the finest gold, Nara began to shatter the plummeting mountain peaks, darkening the skies with his deadly feathered shafts. A great fear spread among the demonic armies. And hearing the furious Sudarçana disc storming the sky, the battered leaders of the Asuras entered within the earth or dived deep into the salty sea. The demigods, having won the coveted nectar and defeated their enemies, returned Mount Mandara with all honor to its own land. And the water-bearing clouds, thundering pleasantly in sky and space and all around, sailed away as they had come. 
The demigods then carefully hid the nectar and celebrated their victory with the greatest of joy. Thereafter, Lord Indra and the other demigods entrusted the treasure of nectar to the diademed one for safe-keeping. 
The Wager of Kadrü and Vinatä 
Süta Gosvämé continued: 
I have now fully explained to you how, by churning, nectar was derived and an illustrious horse of unequaled prowess took birth. Having once seen the horse, Kadrü said to Vinatä, «My dear sister, tell me at once–what color is the horse Uccaihçravä?» 
Vinatä said: 
Why, the king of horses is certainly white! What do you think, my fair sister? Say what color you think he is, and we shall set a wager upon it. 
Kadrü replied: 
I think that horse has a black tail, my sweetly smiling sister. Let's bet on it, O passionate woman, and then we shall see for ourselves. And the loser will become the menial servant of the winner. 
Süta Gosvämé said: 
Thus agreeing on the terms of the wager–that the loser would be the servant of the winner–they returned to their home, remarking, «Tomorrow we shall go and see!» 
However, Kadrü, thinking to engage her thousand sons in a corrupt scheme issued this order to them: «My sons, taking on the form of horsehairs as shiny black as pigment, quickly enter the horse's tail so that I will not be forced to become a maidservant.» But her sons, the race of snakes, did not obey her command, and therefore she cursed them: «When the wise and saintly King Janamejaya, born in the Päëòu line, performs a snake sacrifice, the fire of that sacrifice will burn you all!» 
So cruel was the curse uttered by Kadrü, beyond even what fate might ordain, that Brahmä himself took note of it. But the great grandsire and the hosts of demigods as well, desiring the best for all creatures, allowed her word to stand, for they observed how numerous indeed were the snakes. With their penetrating and virulent poison, the serpents were always inclined to bite others and possessed great strength. Seeing that snakes were so highly poisonous, and simultaneously wishing to help all creatures, Lord Brahmä then bestowed upon the great soul Käçyapa the knowledge of counteracting snake poison. 
Süta Gosvämé continued: 
When night had turned to dawn and the rising sun had ushered in the new day, the two sisters Kadrü and Vinatä, having wagered their personal freedom, went in a very nervous and irritable mood to see the horse Uccaihçravä, who was standing not far away. As they came toward him, they beheld the vast sea teeming with sharks and timiìgilas [enormous aquatics that swallow whales], and thick with many thousands of beings of every form and shape. Crowded with giant turtles and fierce crocodiles, the sea is a dangerous place, yet it is a reservoir of jewels and a charming abode for the demigod Varuëa and the Nägas. It is the master of the rivers, the dwelling place of the underground fire, and a prison for the demons. Frightening to all creatures is the foaming sea, the treasure house of the waters. 
Celestial, glistening, the source of nectar for the gods, those sacred and wondrous waters of the sea are immeasurable and inconceivable. And yet the sea can be ghastly with its deep and swirling currents, which seem to shriek with the awesome, fierce cries of those who move within its waves. Thus the sea holds all beings in awe. 
Whipped by the winds that assault its shore, the sea is aroused and shakes. As its handlike waves toss and turn, the sea appears everywhere to be dancing. Controlled by the waxing and waning moon, the sea waves rise up and cannot be approached. The greatest source of jewels, the sea gave birth to the Lord's conch, Päïcajanya. 
When the Supreme Personality, Govinda, He of immeasurable prowess, assumed the form of a great boar and lifted the lost earth from within the sea, He left its waters shaking and turbid. Yet even after a hundred years of austerity, the illumined sage Atri could not approach the lowest and final depths of the inexhaustible sea. 
At the beginning of the millennium, when the immeasurably powerful Lord Viñëu enters His transcendental mystic slumber, He lies down on the sea. That sacred ocean, the lord of the rivers, stretches immeasurably to uncharted shores and offers oblations of water to the fire that flames from the mouth of the Ocean-mare. 
Kadrü and Vinatä gazed at the great foaming sea, to which thousands of great rivers came constantly flowing in a flood of rivaling currents. It was deep and crowded with sharks and whale-swallowing timiìgilas, roaring with the terrible cries of its water-going denizens. That vast reflector of the sky was unending, a boundless and awesome storehouse of all the world's waters. Having thus seen the ocean crowded with fish, sharks, and waves, deep and wide as the sky and glowing with the flames of its submarine fires, the sisters, Kadrü and Vinatä, then quickly flew across it. 
Süta Gosvämé continued: 
Moving swiftly, Kadrü crossed over the sea with her sister Vinatä and quickly alighted near the celestial horse. Seeing the many black hairs in the horse's tail, Kadrü at once placed Vinatä, whose face was downcast with grief, in a state of menial servitude. Poor Vinatä was tormented by misery, for, having lost the wager, she was now bound to the life of a lowly servant. 
Meanwhile, Vinatä's second son, Garuòa, whose time had come, broke his shell without his mother's help, and thus the mighty one took birth. Shining forth like a blazing mass of fire, that terrifying bird suddenly grew to an enormous size and took to the sky. Upon seeing him, all creatures took shelter of the god of fire, who sat before them in his cosmic form. Prostrating themselves, they said, «Dear Fire, do not grow so fierce! Would you burn us all to ashes? Your great, blazing mass is coming close!» 
Fire said: 
My dear demigods, subduers of the demons, it is not as you think. What you are seeing is the powerful Garuòa, who is equal to me in fiery strength. 
Süta Gosvämé said: 
Thus addressed by Fire, the demigods and sages went up to Garuòa and praised him with eloquent words. 
«You are an exalted sage, the lord of birds! As powerful and fiery as the sun, you are our greatest means of deliverance. 
«You possess waves of power, yet you are fair and just and never mean or weak. Because your strength is irresistible, you are always successful. The world has heard all about your fiery power, for your past and future glory is not at all meager. 
«How extraordinary you are, illuminating all the world and its creatures by your effulgent rays, as if you were the sun. Indeed, you surpass the radiant sun. You are as strong as death, surpassing all that is fixed and fleeting in this world. As the sun when angered can scorch all creatures, so can you burn all beings, like the sacred fire consuming the offering of butter. Your ascent is fearful, like the fire of annihilation, and you can stop the cycle of cosmic ages. 
«O lord of birds, we have come for shelter to you, who are so greatly powerful and can dispel darkness, who touch the clouds with your great strength. We come before you, O courageous, sky-going Garuòa, who soar both near and far, who are magnanimous and unconquerable.» 
Thus praised by the demigods and hosts of sages, the fair-winged Garuòa withdrew his frightening potency within himself. 
Süta Gosvämé continued: 
Then Garuòa, the bird of great stamina and strength, who traveled wherever he desired, crossed to the far side of the great ocean and approached his mother. Having lost her wager and become a menial servant, Vinatä was tormented with grief. 
Then once upon a time, Kadrü called for Vinatä, who was bowed in servitude, and said to her in the presence of her son, «My dear sister, the Nägas live on a most gorgeous and secluded island called Ramaëéyaka, which lies on an ocean bay. O Vinatä, take me there!» 
Vinatä then carried her sister Kadrü, who was mother of the snakes; and Garuòa, at his mother's request, carried all the snakes. The flying son of Vinatä began to fly up towards the fiery sun, and the serpents, overwhelmed by the sun's burning rays, all fainted. Seeing her children in a dangerous condition, Kadrü at once prayed to Lord Indra, «My obeisances to you, O lord of the demigods! My obeisances to you, O destroyer of armies! I bow to you, the slayer of Namuci, O thousand-eyed one, husband of Çaci. Let your waters swell and carry to safety the serpents who are now tormented by the fiery sun. You alone can save us from all danger, O best of the immortals! 
«You devastate the cities of your foes, and you possess the power to release abundant waters. You alone are the cloud, the wind, and the flash of lightning in the sky. You toss and scatter the hosts of clouds, for the clouds are resting on you. 
«You are the awesome thunderbolt, which you wield as your matchless weapon. You are the roaring rain cloud, the creator and destroyer of planets, he whom no one else can conquer. You are the light of all creatures, for you control the sun and fire. You are the great and wonderful being! You are the king and the best of immortals! You represent Lord Viñëu in this world, you of a thousand eyes, and you are the god unto whom I take shelter. 
«O divine one, you are everything to us, the owner of nectar and lord of the moon, he who is adored and worshiped by the mightiest. Thus you are the lunar day, the hour, the bright and dark fortnight of the lunar month, the instant, and the twinkling of an eye. You are the very smallest measurements of time, as well as the years, seasons, months, days, and nights. 
«You are the excellent and abundant earth with its forests and hills. You are the sun-filled sky, dispelling darkness, and you are the great sea, that host of fish, with its huge waves, its sharks, and its whales and timiìgalas. 
«Great is your fame! Honored by the wise and praised by illustrious sages, you joyfully drink the sacrificial Soma and the oblations duly offered you for the world's benefit. For their good the learned brähmaëas ever worship you, for with your matchless flood of might you are recommended in the Vedic hymns. Because of you the twice-born men, sworn to holy sacrifice, study all the Vedas and their supplements.» 
Süta Gosvämé continued: 
Thus praised by Kadrü, Lord Indra, who is carried by bay horses, then covered the entire sky with masses of blue clouds ablaze with lightning, and they poured down huge quantities of water and thundered constantly in the sky as if roaring at one another. Rain fell as never before, and the sky filled up with the most extraordinary clouds, which roared with the greatest of sounds. Space itself seemed to be dancing in the frightening waves of water and wind, as the heavens thundered with the sound of the clouds. 
As Indra poured down rain, the snakes became jubilant, for the very earth was being filled on all sides with water. 
Garuòa Steals the Nectar 
Süta Gosvämé continued: 
Carried by Garuòa, the serpents quickly reached a land surrounded by ocean water and vibrant with the songs of birds. Lush with variegated forests of fruit- and flower-bearing trees, that land was well developed with charming houses and colorfully adorned with lotus-filled lakes of the most refreshing water. Celestial scents wafted about the land, carried on bracing breezes of the cleanest air. Stirred by the wind, fragrant sandalwood trees painted the sky with showers of blossoms, and as the sweet flowers were strewn about in the air, they fell like rain upon all the snakes who had amassed there. 
That sacred island was dear to the Gandharvas, [who entertain the gods with their music and songs,] and also to the Apsaräs, [who are courtesans to the gods.] Alive with the songs of many birds, the charming land gladdened the heart and gave great joy to the sons of Kadrü. 
Entering the lovely woods, the serpents sported with great pleasure and then said to the mighty Garuòa, the best of birds, «Soaring here and there, sky-goer, you see many charming places. Therefore take us to yet another island that is most charming and full of fresh water.» 
Garuòa thought over the matter and then said to his mother, Vinatä, «For what reason, mother, must I do what the serpents order me?» 
Vinatä replied, «O best of birds, I made a wager with my sister, but her serpent sons cheated me with their trickery, and I became the maidservant to that uncivilized woman.» 
Süta Gosvämé said: 
After his mother explained the reason for their joint servitude, Garuòa, saddened by her unhappiness, spoke these words to the serpents: «What must I obtain or learn, what feat must I perform, to free myself from my bondage to you? All of you, speak the truth, serpents!» 
Hearing these words, the serpents said, «Bring nectar by your own strength, O sky-goer, and you shall then be free of our service.» 
Süta Gosvämé said: 
Thus addressed by the serpents, Garuòa said to his mother, «I am going to garner nectar, and thus I want to know what foods are proper for me to eat.» 
Vinatä replied: 
On a secluded ocean shore is the chief residence of the Niñädas. There you will find many thousands of them. You may eat them for your food and then bring back the nectar. But you are never to harm a brähmaëa! Don't ever, in any circumstance, even consider such an act! A brähmaëa is never to be killed by any creature, for brähmaëas are as pure as fire and just as deadly. Indeed, a brähmaëa when angered is like the sun or poison or a deadly weapon. When food is served, a brähmaëa eats before all other creatures. He is the most important member of society, for he is the father and spiritual guide to the people. 
Garuòa questioned further: 
Please tell me, mother, that I may understand clearly, by what auspicious signs do I recognize a brähmaëa? 
Vinatä said: 
If you swallow someone and he tears at your throat like a barbed hook and burns like a red-hot charcoal, then, my son, you should understand him to be an exalted brähmaëa. 
Süta Gosvämé said: 
Although she knew of her son's matchless strength, Vinatä, out of affection, blessed him with these words: «Let the wind guard your wings! Let the moon guard your back, dear son! Let fire guard your head! Let the sun guard you all around! My child, I am ever devoted to your peace and well-being. Travel a safe path, dear son, so that you may be successful in your endeavor!» 
Upon hearing his mother's words, the powerful Garuòa lifted his wings and flew up into the sky. He headed hungrily for the wicked Niñädas, coming upon them like the great force of time, which ends all worldly things. Gathering together all the Niñädas, Garuòa stirred great clouds of dust up into the sky and dried up the water in the ocean bay, shaking the nearby hills. The king of birds greatly expanded his face and blocked all escape by the Niñädas, who quickly fled the mouth of that great snake-eating bird. But so wide was his mouth that the Niñädas, confused by the dust and wind, rushed into it by the thousands, like birds in a gale-shaken forest flying desperately into the sky. The mighty and ever-moving bird, the tormentor of his foes and ruler of the sky, then hungrily closed his mouth and destroyed the Niñädas. 
Süta Gosvämé continued: 
A brähmaëa and his wife had also entered Garuòa's mouth, and the saintly one began to burn Garuòa's throat like a flaming coal. So space-traveling Garuòa said to the brähmaëa, «O best of brähmaëas, please come out quickly! I am opening my mouth for you. I can never kill a brähmaëa, even if he has fallen from his vows and is engaged in sin.» 
As Garuòa urged him in this way, the brähmaëa replied, «My wife is a Niñäda woman, but she must be allowed to come out with me.» 
Garuòa answered: 
Take your Niñäda lady with you and come out as fast as you can! Quickly, save yourself lest the fire of my belly digest you! 
Süta Gosvämé said: 
The learned brähmaëa and his Niñäda wife promptly came out, and after gratefully blessing Garuòa with ever-increasing fortune, he departed for his chosen land. When the brähmaëa and his wife were out of his mouth, that lord of birds stretched his wings and flew into the sky at the speed of mind. 
Garuòa next encountered his father, [Käçyapa,] who asked him if he was faring well, whereupon he explained to his father the following: 
«The serpents have sent me to fetch nectar, and I am determined to do it in order to free my mother from her bondage. Indeed, I shall fetch the nectar this very day. Mother instructed me to eat the Niñädas, but after eating thousands of them I still am not satisfied. Therefore, my lord, please point out another type of food I may eat, so that I shall have sufficient strength to bring the nectar.» 
Käçyapa replied: 
There once lived an exalted sage named Vibhävasu, who was extremely ill-tempered, and his younger brother Supratéka, who was a great ascetic. Supratéka did not like the fact that the two brothers held their wealth in common, and he constantly recommended dividing it, until Vibhävasu said to his brother Supratéka, «There are many who out of foolishness ever wish to divide their property, but once wealth is divided people become enchanted by their riches and fail to respect one another. When wealth is divided, each man cares only for his own riches, and people thus become separated by holding separate wealth. Then foes in the guise of friends, understanding the situation, begin to create conflict and divide the community against itself. 
«Realizing that people are now divided, still others take advantage and prey upon the community. Thus a divided people soon come to utter ruination. 
«Therefore, dear brother, the wise do not encourage the division of wealth among those who strictly follow their holy teachers and scriptures and who sincerely wish each other well. Yet still you would have personal wealth, even at the cost of dividing our family! You are so stubborn, Supratéka, that you cannot be restrained. I therefore curse you to become an elephant.» 
Thus cursed, Supratéka said to his brother Vibhävasu, «And you shall become a sea-going tortoise!» 
Thus the two brothers Supratéka and Vibhävasu, their minds bewildered by greed, cursed one another and were forced to become an elephant and a tortoise. Their wicked anger caused them to take birth as animals, and proud of their new size and strength, they continued their mutual enmity. Here in this very lake, in fact, those two huge-bodied foes go on continuously with their old feud. One of them is that large and handsome elephant now coming toward us. As soon as he gives his mighty roar, the gigantic tortoise lying within the water rises up and causes the entire lake to tremble. Seeing him thus, the powerful elephant curls his trunk, and with all the combined force and fury of his tusks, trunk, tail, and feet he falls upon the tortoise. As the elephant thrashes about in the lake, which is fllled with many fish, the mighty tortoise raises his head and charges to do battle with the elephant. 
The elephant is about forty-eight miles high and twice as long, and the tortoise is about twenty-four miles high and eighty miles in circumference. These two have gone completely mad from their constant fighting, each struggling to conquer the other. You should immediately consume them both and free them from this useless plight, and then carry out your own mission. 
Süta Gosvämé said: 
Thus hearing his father's words, that space-roaming bird of terrifying strength clamped down on the elephant with one claw and the tortoise with the other and, holding them fast, rose up high into the sky. Flying to the sacred land of Alamba, he started to alight on its celestial trees, but the strong winds from his wings made those very trees tremble, and in fear they cried out to him, «Please don't break us!» 
Seeing the branches shake on those trees, whose roots and shoots could fulfill all desires, Garuòa the sky-goer then approached some gigantic trees of most handsome colors and shapes, trees with jeweled branches that bore gold and silver fruits. Among those shining trees that stood surrounded by the waters of the sea, one very grand and elderly banyan tree said to Garuòa, the best of birds, who flew toward him at the speed of the mind, «See here my great branch that stretches for eight hundred miles. You should sit on that branch and then eat the elephant and the tortoise.» 
But as the powerful leader of birds alighted upon the tree, which hosted thousands of birds on its mountainous form, even that great tree began to tremble, and its mighty branch, covered with so many leaves, broke under Garuòa's extraordinary weight. 
Süta Gosvämé continued: 
As soon as Garuòa touched that very strong branch of the tree with his two feet, it snapped, but Garuòa held on to it, and as he smilingly looked upon that huge broken branch, he observed the celestial Välakhilyasö hanging from it face-down. Fearful of harming them, that ruler of birds then swooped down and grabbed the branch in his mouth. Anxious to set them down safely, Garuòa flew about the skies as gently as possible, but whenever he tried to land in that mountainous region he would break the mountains to pieces. Thus out of compassion for the Välakhilyas, Garuòa flew to many lands, still holding the elephant and the tortoise, but he found no place to alight. 
Garuòa finally approached the best of mountains, the imperishable peak known as Gandha-mädana. There he saw his father, Käçyapa, engaged in austerities. Käçyapa saw his sky-going son, who shone with divine beauty; who was filled with fiery and heroic strength, moving as swiftly as the mind and with the power of the wind; who appeared like a great mountain peak, rearing his head like the staff of Brahmä; who was inconceivable, unapproachable, and frightening to all creatures; who wielded mystic potency in his person, as relentless as blazing fire; who could not be threatened or conquered by the gods or demons; who was a cleaver of mountain peaks; who could dry up the rivers and make the worlds tremble by his glance, which was as frightening as the face of death. 
Witnessing the arrival of his son, and understanding his intentions, the exalted Käçyapa spoke these words: «Son, don't do anything rash, lest you suddenly find yourself in trouble. Don't enrage the Välakhilyas, who live by absorbing light, lest they burn you.» 
Käçyapa, for his son's sake, appeased the Välakhilyas, who had achieved perfection through austerity, pointing out to them the cause of his son's behavior. 
«O ascetics, whose wealth is austerity, Garuòa's actions are ultimately meant for the good of all creatures. So won't you please allow him to carry out his mission?» 
At these words of glorious Käçyapa, the sages gave up the branch and departed together for the pure Himälayan range in search of austerities. When they had gone, the son of Vinatä, his full mouth stretched by the branch, said to his father, Käçyapa, «My lord, where can I leave this branch? Tell me, my lord, of a land where there are no brähmaëas.» 
Thereupon, Käçyapa told his son of an uninhabited mountain, whose valleys and caves are completely blocked off by snow, where other livings beings cannot go, even in their minds. Garuòa first entered that great mountainous region with his mind and then speedily flew there with the branch, elephant, and tortoise. Even a long, thin strap cut from a hundred hides could notöbind round the mighty branch Garuòa carried as he flew. 
In a short time, Garuòa, the best of those who fly, had come a distance of 800,000 miles. As if in a single moment, he had reached the mountain described by his father, and from the sky he released the great branch and it fell with a loud sound. 
Struck by the winds from Garuòa's wings, that king of mountains shook; its trees came tumbling down, releasing showers of flowers. Lofty mountain peaks, rich with jewels, gold, and minerals, crumbled in all directions, making the great mountain sparkle. Many trees whose branches were bedecked with golden flowers were struck by the falling branch and shook and flashed like rainclouds flashing with lightning. As resplendent as gold, and brilliantly mixed with the minerals of the mountain, those trees shone forth as if stained with the reddish rays of the rising sun. 
Thereafter, the best of sky-goers, Garuòa, standing on that mountain peak, ate both the elephant and the tortoise and then flew up from the very top of the mountain at the speed of the mind. At that moment, ill omens appeared, signaling danger for the demigods. Indra's cherished thunderbolt weapon was disturbed and flashed with pain. Meteors, smoking and flaming, plummeted from the skies in broad daylight. All the personal weapons of the Vasus, Rudras, Ädityas, Sädhyas, Maruts, and all other gods began to attack one another. This had never happened before, even in the great wars between the gods and the demons. Cyclonic winds whipped the world, and meteors fell everywhere. 
The cloudless sky roared menacingly, and Indra, god of gods, could only rain down blood. The garlands of the gods withered, and their fiery power was extinguished. Ill-boding angry clouds thickly showered blood, and swirling dust damaged the upraised crowns of the heavenly rulers. 
Even Lord Indra, who performed a hundred great sacrifices, was disturbed and frightened upon seeing these dangerous omens, and along with the other gods he went and spoke to the heavenly priest, Båhaspati. 
«My lord,» he said, «why have these great and ghastly omens suddenly arisen? I do not see an enemy who could overcome us in battle.» 
Båhaspati said: 
O best of the gods, it is by your fault and carelessness–you who performed one hundred sacrifices–and by the austerities of the Välakhilyas that a wonderful being has taken birth. He is the son of Käçyapa Muni and Vinatä, a mighty sky-going creature who can take any shape at will, and who has now come to take away the heavenly Soma juice. That winged being is the best of the strong, and he is capable of stealing the Soma juice. Indeed, I think anything is possible for him. He can accomplish the impossible. 
Süta Gosvämé said: 
Hearing these words, Lord Indra then declared to the guardians of the celestial nectar, «A bold and powerful bird is trying to steal the Soma! I'm clearly warning you so that he doesn't take it by force. Båhaspati has told me that our foe possesses incomparable strength.» 
Hearing this command, the demigods were amazed, and in a determined effort they stood at their posts, surrounding the prized nectar. Indra himself stood with them, wielding his thunderbolt. Wearing invaluable golden armor variously embellished with jewels, the skillful gods raised up by the thousands their finely-honed razor-edged weapons. They seized all of their glaring, flaming weapons, which sizzled and smoked with power. They raised whirling discs, along with bludgeons, tridents, battle axes, and all manner of burning spears, and also flawless swords and fighting clubs of awesome look. Every weapon was handsomely fitted to its owner's body. 
Holding all these glowing weapons, the shining hosts of gods, adorned with celestial jewels, stood fearlessly with pure, brave hearts. Fixed in their resolve to guard the nectar, unique in their strength, courage, and power, those celestial beings, who had shattered the cities of the godless, stood with bodies shining like kindled fire. 
Thus the demigods made their stand on that grand battlefield spreading beyond the horizon, crowding it with their hundreds and thousands of devastating clubs, so that it shone brightly in the pleasant rays of the sun. 
Çaunaka said: 
O son of Romaharñaëa, what was Indra's fault, and how was he so careless that by the austerities of the Välakhilyas, Garuòa, king of birds, took birth as the son of sage Käçyapa? How did Garuòa become so invincible that no living being can slay him? How does that great airborne creature take any shape he wills? How does his power grow at his mere wish? If the answers to these questions are to be found in the ancient Puräëic histories, I would like to hear them. 
Süta Gosvämé said: 
The topic on which you question me is indeed found in the Puräëas. Please attend, O brähmaëa, as I summarize the entire story. 
Once the progenitor Käçyapa. desiring a son, was engaged in offering a sacrifice, and the sages, demigods, and Gandharvas were assisting him. Käçyapa employed Lord Indra in bringing wood for the sacred fire, and the sages known as the Välakhilyas were also engaged, as were other demigods. 
The powerful Indra lifted a load befitting his might and thus without difficulty brought what appeared to be a mountain of firewood. He then saw on the road a group of sages, each of whom was as small as the curved joint at the base of a thumb. Together they were carryingöone small leaf and stem, but because of having fasted, the tiny ascetics had almost sunk into their own limbs, and thus weakened, they struggled in the water that filled a cow's hoofprint. 
Intoxicated with his own power and filled with pride, the mighty Indra laughed at them and then insulted them by quickly stepping over their heads. A terrible anger arose within the sages, and at once they gave full expression to their fury, undertaking a mighty effort that would bring fear to proud Indra. The accomplished ascetics chanted with precision a variety of mantras, offering them into the sacrificial fire. Hear from me what those learned ones wished to achieve: 
«Let there be another Indra,» vowed the sages with determination, «a new ruler for all the gods, endowed with all the strength he desires, one who can go where he wishes, bringing fear to the celestial king. Swift as the mind, bearing one hundred times the valor and strength of Indra, may that dreaded being arise today by the fruit of our austerity!» 
When he learned of this solemn oath, the king of the gods, performer of a hundred sacrifices, was much disturbed and went at once to Käçyapa, of rigid vows. After hearing from the celestial king, the progenitor Käçyapa approached the Välakhilyas forthwith and asked them if their sacrifice was succeeding. 
The honest Välakhilyas replied to him, «Succeed it must!» 
The progenitor Käçyapa, hoping to pacify them, said, «It is by the order of Brahmä that this current Indra occupies his post. Yet all of you ascetics are endeavoring to create another Indra. O pious ones, you should not render false the word of Brahmä, yet your own determined plan should likewise not prove false. Let there thus arise among the race of birds a great being of exceeding strength and glory, an Indra of the winged creatures, and let there be mercy toward the king of the gods, who begs for it.» 
Thus requested by Käçyapa, the Välakhilyas, rich with austerities, honored that best of sages, and said to him: «O progenitor, our endeavor to produce another Indra was also meant to bring you a son. Therefore, please take command of this powerful sacrifice and do as you think proper.» 
At that very time, Dakña's lovely daughter Vinatä, of high reputation and kindly nature, longed to have a son, and she performed austerities with great devotion and observed the fast called puàsavana [in which a wife who seeks progeny takes a vow to subsist temporarily on whole milk alone]. She then cleansed her body and in a purified state approached her husband. 
Käçyapa told her, «O goddess, you shall achieve your desire, for you will be the mother of two heroic sons who will rule the three worlds. It is by the austerities of the Välakhilyas, as well as my own desire, that you will have two exalted sons who will be honored by all people.» 
The great Käçyapa, son of Maréci, then spoke to her again: «Bear these twin embryos with great care, for they are meant for glory. One of your sons shall make himself chief (Indra) of all winged creatures. As he soars through the heavens, growing in power by his very will, your heroic son will be revered by all the world.» 
The progenitor Käçyapa then said to Lord Indra, «These two birds shall assist you as your brothers. No wrong will come to you by contact with them. O destroyer of hostile cities, let your worries be dispelled; you alone shall be Indra. But never again can you thus insult sages learned in the Absolute or deride them out of pride, for when they are angered their wrath is fierce and their words burn like poison.» 
Hearing these words, Indra was relieved of his anxiety and returned to his celestial home, and Vinatä, her wish fulfilled, became joyous and gave birth to two sons, Aruëa and Garuòa. Of the two, Aruëa was crippled and became the dawn that heralds the sun. Garuòa, however, was anointed as the chief ruler, the Indra himself, of all winged creatures. O child of the Bhågu race, hear now of his most extraordinary deeds. 
Süta Gosvämé continued: 
Thereafter, O best of the twice-born, in the midst of all this excitement, the king of birds, Garuòa, came swiftly upon the demigods. As the demigods spied his approach and noted his surpassing strength, they became utterly shaken and began to clasp one another and take hold of all their weapons. Among them stood Viçvakarma, mighty beyond imagining and as brilliant as lightning or fire, who with his most unusual strength protected the heavenly nectar. He fought a matchless battle against that lord of birds, but after fighting for a short time he was laid low, wounded by the wings, beak, and talons of Garuòa. 
With the winds from his wings the great bird stirred up huge dust clouds that darkened the worlds and covered the gods. Covered with dust, blinded and bewildered, the demigods could not see the attacking bird, and in that tumult the guardians of the nectar were separated from one another. Thus did Garuòa throw the very heavens into disorder, and he tore at the gods with his wings, beak, and talons. 
Then Lord Indra, with his thousands of eyes, quickly commanded the Wind, «Dispel this shower of dust, O Märuta! Be that your task!» 
The mighty Wind at once drove away the dust, and with the darkness now removed, the gods pressed in hard upon Garuòa. Yet even as the legions of gods were attacking the great bird, he let loose a powerful roar like the thundering of clouds and struck fear into the hearts of all creatures. The king of birds, slayer of great foes, flew high into the sky and hovered above the gods, bristling with power. Then the celestial denizens, clad in armor, showered every kind of weapon upon him, attacking Garuòa on all sides with spears, iron bludgeons, tridents, clubs, and flaming, razor-sharp discs that sped like the sun. But the king of birds was not to be shaken, and he fought back with wild vengeance. The fierce and fiery son of Vinatä roared in the sky and hurled the gods all around with the power of his wings and breast. 
Harassed and thrown here and there by Garuòa, the gods took to flight, wounded by his nails and beak, spilling their blood profusely. Thus routed by the Indra of birds, the Sädhyas and Gandharvas fled to the East, and the Vasus and Rudras to the South. The Ädityas ran to the West and the Açvinis to the North, and as they all ran they repeatedly gazed back upon the great and powerful being with whom they were locked in battle. 
The sky-ranging Garuòa then did full battle with the brave Äçva-kranda, the winged Reëuka, and the heroic Çüra, and then with Tapana, Ulüka, Çvasana, and the winged Nimeña, and at last with Praruja and Praliha. Vainateyaö ripped apart his foes with his wings, talons, and pointed beak, raging like the mighty Çiva at the moment when the millennium comes to an end and everything is annihilated. Great in potency and in spirit, the celestial guards were nonetheless severely wounded by their mighty foe and poured out their blood like bursting clouds. 
The best of all who fly, having brought these great warriors to the ends of their lives, stepped over them to pursue the nectar, but he then saw fire all around, with a fearful wind whipping the sharp, cutting blaze. The great fire covered the skies and appeared to burn the very heavens with its flames. 
The great soul Garuòa instantly made for himself ninety times ninety mouths and with these mouths very swiftly drank up many rivers and then speedily moved upon the fire. Propelled by powerful wings, this tormentor of foes extinguished the blazing conflagration with the river waters and then reduced his body to an extremely small size. For with the fire now extinguished, Garuòa wished to enter the storehouse of the celestial nectar. 
Süta Gosvämé continued: 
As river waters push their way into the sea, so Garuòa, whose golden body glowed with the radiance of the sun and moon, forcibly entered the well-guarded sanctuary where the nectar was housed. Therein he beheld an ever-whirling iron wheel rimmed all around with razor-sharp blades. Fiery as the sun, and unspeakably dangerous, the horrible device had been well built by the gods to slice to pieces any who would steal the nectar. 
But the great bird saw a way through the wheel, and shrinking his body he spun in time with the deadly wheel and suddenly dashed through its spokes. Yet behind the wheel lurked two extraordinary serpents of exceeding strength, shining like a blazing fire, with fiery faces, fiery eyes, and tongues like bolts of lightning. Indeed, they could spew mortal poison with their very eyes. Always staring furiously with ranging, unblinking eyes, they were so deadly that if even one of them merely beheld an intruder, the luckless person would be instantly burned to ashes. 
Garuòa gazed upon the two guardians of nectar, and before they could see him he covered their eyes with dust. Unseen, he rushed hard upon the snakes, driving and battering them from all sides. The son of Vinatä trampled them under his talons and immediately tore them to pieces, and then he rushed in where the nectar lay. The mighty and heroic son of Vinatä carefully lifted the nectar and then, wrecking the razor-edged wheel, took to the sky in great haste. Without drinking a drop of nectar, the heroic bird carried it quickly away and flew untiringly through the heavens, blocking the sunlight with his great wings. 
As he cruised through the skies, Garuòa suddenly came upon the imperishable Lord Viñëu, who was pleased with him for his unique accomplishment and selfless act. [Garuòa did not desire the nectar for himself.] The Lord thus said to the great bird, «I shall give you whatever you desire.» 
The high-flying bird chose his benediction and said, «May I ever remain above you.» 
Again he spoke to Lord Näräyaëa, uttering these words [and asking for another boon]: «May I be ageless and immortal, even without taking the nectar.» 
These boons were granted, and after accepting them Garuòa addressed Lord Viñëu: «I now offer a benediction to You. Even though you are the Lord, please select a boon.» 
Lord Kåñëa selected the mighty Garuòa himself as His personal carrier. The Lord then placed the image of Garuòa upon His chariot flag, so that Garuòa could indeed remain above Him. The Lord thus fulfilled His promise. 
Garuòa thereafter continued on his course, and Lord Indra, considering him an enemy of the gods for having forcibly stolen the celestial nectar, struck him with a devastating thunderbolt. Soundly struck by the thunderbolt of Indra, Garuòa, the best of airborne beings, shouted out fiercely and then smiled and addressed Lord Indra in a gentle tone. 
«O Indra, since your thunderbolt was produced from the bones of a great sage. I shall pay homage to that sage, to the thunderbolt, and to you. Thus I cast off a single feather, the limits of which you shall not be able to perceive. I can never feel pain from the blows of your thunderbolt.» 
And all creatures declared, «Let this bird be known as Suparëa, he of beautiful feathers!» for they were amazed to behold the most handsome feather cast off by Garuòa. 
Beholding such a wonder, even the mighty Indra, who has thousands of eyes, thought to himself, «This bird is a magnificent being!» and said to Garuòa, «I wish to comprehend the limits of your great and unparalleled strength, O best of birds, and I desire your eternal friendship.» 
Garuòa said: 
My dear Lord Indra, let there be friendship between us, as you desire. Regarding the extent of my power, know that my prowess is great and irresistible. Yet the saintly do not approve of the desire to glorify one's own strength and advertise one's own good qualities. I shall reply to your question only because I have accepted you as my friend; otherwise I would never speak my own praises without reason. I will simply say that all this world, with its mountains, forests, and seas, and including you, Indra–everything could hang from but a single quill of one of my feathers. Or you may understand my great strength in this way: if all the worlds were joined together, along with their moving and unmoving beings, I could carry them all without feeling any fatigue. 
Süta Gosvämé said: 
O Çaunaka, wearing his royal helmet, Indra, the lord of the gods, who was dedicated to the welfare of all creatures and himself the most opulent among all beautiful and illustrious personalities, then addressed the heroic Garuòa, who had thus spoken to him. 
«May we always be the best of friends. Now, since you have no actual need of this nectar, it should be given to me, for those to whom you would deliver it would do us harm.» 
Garuòa said: 
I brought the nectar for good reason, but I shall not give it to anyone to drink. O thousand-eyed one, when I put the nectar down, you should immediately come and steal it away.» 
Indra said: 
I am satisfied by these words you have spoken, Garuòa. Please take from me whatever boon you desire.» 
Süta Gosvämé said: 
Thus addressed, Garuòa began to remember the sons of Kadrü, and he recalled especially the trickery by which they had turned his innocent mother into a slave. And so he replied, «Although I am the lord of all, yet I shall beg from you this boon: that the mighty serpents become my food!» 
«So be it!» said Indra, destroyer of the Dänavas, and he thus began to follow Garuòa, repeatedly telling him, «When you put down the nectar I shall take it.» 
Garuòa, celebrated as Suparëa, quickly reached the place where his mother awaited him and with great jubilation said to all the serpents, «I have brought this nectar, and I shall place it for you on a covering of kuça grass. O serpents, after you have bathed and performed all the auspicious rituals, you may drink it. 
«From today on my mother shall be free of servitude, for I have fulfilled the promise you asked of me.» 
«So be it!» replied the serpents to Garuòa, and as they left to take their baths Lord Indra at once grabbed the nectar and returned with it to his celestial kingdom. 
In the meantime, the serpents took their bath and chanted the necessary sacred hymns. Completing all the auspicious rites, they eagerly returned to that spot to claim the nectar. Realizing that the entire stock of nectar had been stolen by counter-deception, they at once licked the Darbha grass where the nectar had stood. By that act, the tongues of snakes were thenceforth forked, and by the touch of celestial nectar Darbha grass became pure and sacred. 
The fair-winged Suparëa experienced supreme happiness and celebrated with his mother in that sublime forest. Offered the highest worship by all creatures of the sky, authorized to feed on snakes, and enjoying most noble fame, Garuòa brought joy back to the life of his mother, Vinatä. 
The glories of the exalted soul Garuòa are so great that any person who regularly hears this story of the lord of the birds recited in an assembly of spiritually educated people undoubtedly attains to the heavenly abode, having earned the merit and fruit of true piety. 
The Snakes 
Çré Çaunaka said: 
O son of Romaharñaëa, you have explained why the serpents were cursed by their mother and why Vinatä was cursed by her son. You also related how the sage Käçyapa gave a boon to his two wives, Kadrü and Vinatä, and you revealed the names of the two great birds who took birth as the sons of Vinatä. But you have not given us the names of the serpents, O Süta, and we are eager to hear at least the names of the most important among them. 
Süta Gosvämé said: 
O learned ascetic, I have not told you the names of all the serpents because they are so numerous. But listen now as I name the most important of them. 
The firstborn is Çeña, and after him Väsuki, Airävata, and Takñaka. Then come Karkoöaka and Dhanaïjaya. Then there are Käliya, Maëi-näga, and Äpüraëa; Piïjaraka, Eläpatra, and Vämana; Néla, Anéla, Kalmäña, Çabala, Äryaka, Ädika, and Çala-potaka; Sumano-mukha, Dadhi-mukha, and Vimala-piëòaka; then Äpta, Koöanaka, Çaìka, Väli-çikha, Niñöhyünaka, Hema-guha, Nahuña, and Piìgala; Bähya-karëa, Hasti-päda, Mudgara-piëòaka, Kambala, and Açvatara; and then Käléyaka, Våtta, Saàvartaka, and the two snakes known as Padma; Çankha-naka and Sphaëòaka; Kñemaka, Piëòäraka, Kara-véra, Puñpa-daàstra, Elaka, Bilva-päëòuka, Müñakäda, Çaìkha-çiras, and Pürëa-daàñöra; Haridraka, Aparäjita, Jyotika, and Çré-vaha; Kauravya and Dhåta-räñöra; Puñkara and Çalyaka; Virajas, Subähu, and the powerful Çäli-piëòa; Hasti-bhadra, Piöharaka, Kumuda, Kumudäkña, Tittiri, and Halika; then Karkara and Akarkara; Mukhara, Koëa-väsana, Kuïjara, Kurära, Prabhä-kara, and Kuëòodara and Mahodara. 
O best of the twice-born, the most prominent snakes have now been named. The names of the other serpents will not be given here because they are so numerous. Their children and the descendants of their children are innumerable, and for this reason I shall not recount them, O most excellent among the twice-born. Indeed, my dear ascetic, it is not possible to count the many thousands, the millions, indeed the tens of millions of serpents in this world. 
Çré Çaunaka said: 
My dear Süta, from birth the serpents were powerful and difficult to subdue. Upon realizing the gravity of their mother's curse, what did they proceed to do? 
Çré Süta Gosvämé said: 
Among those serpents was the widely renowned Lord Çeña, an incarnation of Godhead, who immediately left His mother Kadrü and took to very severe austerities. So strict were His disciplinary vows that He ate nothing but air. 
Lord Çeña first went to the Gandha-mädana mountain and there practiced austerities, journeying thence to the holy places known as Badaré and Gokarëa. Finally, on the slopes of the Himälayas, He came to the lotus forest known as Puñkaräraëya. In all these holy regions and sanctuaries He devoted himself exclusively to the spiritual path, keeping His senses constantly under control. 
Once as Lord Çeña was practicing his awesome austerities, with His flesh, skin, and muscle now emaciated, and covered with long, matted locks and torn clothing, the universal Grandfather, Lord Brahmä, happened to spot Him. Even as Çeña performed His penances, devoted to the highest truth, the Grandfather said to Him, «O Çeña, what is this You are doing? You should rather do something that will benefit all creatures. O sinless one, tell me, if You like, what is in Your heart that is troubling You for so long, for by the fire of Your fierce austerity, You are troubling the creatures of this world.» 
Çeña replied: 
My lord, all My brothers, the serpents, are so dull-minded! Grant that I shall never again have to live with them, for I find them intolerable. They are forever envious of one another, as if enemies. Therefore I perform My austerities in seclusion, so that I shall not have to see them. 
O Grandfather, they can never accept Vinatä and her son, even though Garuòa is our own brother. They utterly despise Garuòa, that great soul endowed with such mighty strength by the blessing of his father, Käçyapa. Naturally the powerful Garuòa has no affection for them. Therefore, by dedicating Myself completely to austerity I shall give up this body, but how shall I avoid contact with serpents in My future lives? 
Lord Brahmä said: 
My dear Çeña, I know all about the conduct of Your brothers, and I also know their great fear because of their mother's offensive curse. Yet You need not grieve for Your brothers, for in the past a solution to this problem was arranged. 
My dear Çeña, take a boon from me–that which You desire most–for I am so pleased with You that I wish to bestow upon You a benediction this very day. O best of the serpents, Your keen intelligence is blessed to be always absorbed in virtue, and therefore I further bless You that Your unwavering mind will be increasingly fixed on such virtue. 
Lord Çeña said: 
O Grandfather, this is the blessing I desire today: that My thoughts may ever take pleasure in goodness, tranquillity, and austerity. 
Lord Brahmä said: 
O Çeña, pleased by Your discipline and serenity, I now request You to carry out my command, which is meant for the welfare of all creatures. Çeña, You must bear this earth, with all its mountains, forests, seas, mineral reservoirs, and cities. Arise! Hold the world in place so that life be not disturbed! 
Lord Çeña said: 
As the boon-granting god, lord of creatures, and master of the earth and the universe has spoken, so shall I act. I shall indeed sustain the earth and keep it unwavering. O lord of all creatures, you may place the world upon My head. 
Lord Brahmä said: 
O very best of serpents, go now beneath the earth, for she herself will grant You passage. Çeña, by thus sustaining the world You will give me great happiness. 
Süta Gosvämé said: 
And so in obedience to Brahmä's command, the earth opened wide, giving passage to Lord Çeña, the firstborn and greatest of all serpents. There He stands, holding the earth and all its circling seas upon His head. 
Lord Brahmä said: 
O finest of serpents, O Lord of virtue, You alone are the celebrated Çeña. You alone, with Your limitless coils, take the entire burden of this world and thus sustain it, as would I myself or Indra, the slayer of Bala. 
Süta Gosvämé said: 
The great snake Ananta Çeña thus resides beneath the earth, and by His unlimited might He alone sustains the world in obedience to the order of Brahmä. Lord Brahmä, the best of the demigods and grandfather of this universe, then granted Ananta friendship with Suparëa, the son of Vinatä. 
Süta Gosvämé said: 
Hearing his mother pronounce a curse on each of her serpent sons, the exalted serpent Väsuki at once began to reflect, «How can this curse be avoided?» He discussed all aspects of the matter with those brothers, headed by Airävata, who were dedicated to virtue. 
Çrémän Väsuki said: 
We are all quite aware of the curse that has now been directed against us, and by discussing it together we shall try to find a way to save ourselves from it. There is a process of counteracting every curse– but, my fellow serpents, when a curse is uttered by one's own mother there may be no way to nullify it. The same holds true when a curse is pronounced (and allowed) in the presence of Lord Brahmä, the untiring and immeasurable creator, who is dedicated to truth. 
Therefore, my sinless brothers, when I heard our own mother curse us in the presence of the lord, my heart began to tremble. For even as she declared our utter ruin, the inexhaustible lord did not forbid or restrain her. 
We are therefore gathered here in council for the very salvation of the serpent race. Let not the time run out! By our discussion we must find a way to save ourselves, as did the gods in ancient times when Agni was lost, having concealed himself in a cave. We must find a way to stop the sacrifice of Janamejaya, which is meant to destroy the serpents. Either the sacrifice must not occur or, if it does, it must fail in its purpose. 
Süta Gosvämé said: 
The sons of Kadrü who had gathered there gave their assent, and being masters of political strategy, they at once began to formulate a practical plan. Some suggested, «Assuming the appearence of learned brähmaëas, we snakes will beg a boon from Janamejaya, and when he agrees to grant it we shall say, `May you not perform this sacrifice!'» 
But other serpents, thinking themselves wise, replied, «Being learned, all of us shall become the king's most respected advisors. He will naturally request our conclusive judgment in all affairs, and thus we shall advise him in such a way that the sacrifice will be stopped. Holding us in high regard, the learned king will question us about the value of such a sacrifice, and we shall reply that clearly there is none. With logic and reason we shall establish the principle that such a ritual would involve the king in many dangers and evils, in both this life and the next, and that there should thus be no sacrifice. 
«Or else, having identified the leading priest at the ceremony, he who knows the intricacies of a snake sacrifice and is bent on helping the king, a serpent will strike and kill this priest. When the priest conducting the sacrifice is killed, there can be no sacrifice. The king will have other priests who know how to perform a snake sacrifice, but we shall bite every one of them. In this way we shall surely accomplish our purpose.» 
Hearing this, other snakes who were sworn to virtue then advised, «Your plan is unwise. Murdering brähmaëas is not at all intelligent. In times of calamity, justice and virtue are the basis for achieving the highest peace; activity based on injustice casts the whole world into grief.» 
Other snakes said, «Then let us take the form of clouds flashing with lightning, and by releasing torrents of rain we will extinguish the sacrificial fire, even as it blazes.» 
There were other prominent serpents who suggested, «Let us go to the sacrificial arena under cover of night, and as soon as the priests are inattentive we shall immediately steal the sacrificial ladle, thus impeding the ceremony. Or during the sacrifice hundreds and thousands of snakes can bite everyone present and create panic. Or perhaps the serpents should contaminateö all of the sanctified food with their own stool and urine.» 
Then other snakes insisted, «We ourselves should become the king's priests for the sacrifice, and we can then impede the ceremony by demanding payment for our services. Having come under our control, the king will do as we desire.» 
Others said, «When the king is sporting in the water, we should carry him to our palace and bind him. Thus the sacrifice will not take place.» 
Other serpents, eager to help their race, offered this counsel: «We should immediately seize the king and bite him. Then our work will be done. When the king is dead, all our problems will be cut off at their root.» 
This last definitive strategy was heartily approved by all the snakes, and they said to their leader, Väsuki, «O king, if you approve this plan, let us immediately make the necessary arrangements.» 
Having spoken thus, they respectfully fixed their gaze on Väsuki, ruler of the serpents. Carefully considering the matter, Väsuki said to the assembled snakes, «O serpents, I cannot approve your plan, and I do not think it should be executed. Even though all assembled snakes have come to this conclusion, it does not appeal to me. And yet something must be done to save you, and this causes me great anxiety. For whatever we do, good or evil, now depends on me.» 
Süta Gosvämé said: 
After patiently hearing the statements of all the serpents, who expressed their different views, and hearing Väsuki's response, Eläpatra spoke these words: 
«Do not waste your time thinking that there will be no sacrifice, or that we can eliminate King Janamejaya, who is the cause of our great fear. Have you forgotten that he is a direct descendant of the Päëòavas, and that he fights with the strength of his forefathers? 
«My dear King Väsuki, we should rather recall that excellent wisdom which states that a man who is assailed by divine providence has no other recourse but to take shelter of that very same divine providence. It is by the will of providence that danger threatens us, and thus we shall only find our refuge in that same divine will. O best of the serpents, please hear my words. 
«When the curse was being cast, I was frightened, and I crawled onto the lap of our mother. From there, my lord, I heard the gods speaking to themselves, for they were stunned and aggrieved by our mother's curse upon us. Approaching Lord Brahmä on our behalf, they said, `Fiery are these lordly snakes, and fiery too is their mother!'» 
The gods then said to Lord Brahmä: 
Grandfather, what manner of woman, after obtaining such dear sons, would curse them like this? None but the cruel Kadrü, O lord of lords, and in your very presence! 
Moreover you have now agreed to what she said, Grandfather, and we are anxious to know for what reason you did not restrain her from such cursing. 
Lord Brahmä said: 
There are many snakes of frightening strength, who are cruel and filled with poison. Because I desire the welfare of all creatures, I did not stop Kadrü from uttering her curse. Those serpents who are mordacious, vile, sinful, and ever poisonous will be destroyed, but not those who practice the rule of virtue–the virtuous snakes will be saved. Now please learn from me how such virtuous serpents will be saved from calamity when the fated time arrives. 
There will appear in the family of the Yäyävaras a wise and noble sage named Jarat-käru. He will be as potent as fire and in full control of his senses. A great ascetic by the name of Ästéka will take birth as the son of Jarat-käru, and that boy will stop the sacrifice of snakes. Thereby will all the virtuous serpents be saved. 
The gods replied: 
O lord, in union with what woman will that excellent sage, the great and powerful ascetic of the name Jarat-käru, beget his exalted son? 
Lord Brahmä said: 
That potent jewel of the twice-born, Jarat-käru, will beget his powerful son in a virgin girl of the same name. 
Eläpatra said: 
«This is a proper solution!» said the gods to the Grandfather, and having thus spoken, they went on their way, and Lord Brahmä too took his leave. O Väsuki, I see now that your sister is named Jarat-käru, and so to avoid this danger you must give her in charity to that sage of strict vows when he comes to request her hand. I have heard from authorities that this arrangement will be our salvation. 
Süta Gosvämé said: 
O best of the twice-born, hearing the words of Eläpatra, all the serpents were filled with joy, and they honored him by crying out, «Sädhu! Sädhu!» 
Thenceforth Väsuki, his heart filled with joy, carefully protected his sister Jarat-käru. Shortly thereafter all the gods and demons churned Varuëa's great ocean, and the mighty serpent Väsuki became the churning rope. Having thus accomplished their work, the gods, along with Väsuki, went to see the Grandsire, Lord Brahmä, and said to him, «Dear lord, Väsuki fears his mother's curse and therefore suffers greatly. He is very worried about his brother serpents, for the curse against them is like a thorn in his heart. O lord, please remove this painful thorn. This lord of the snakes, Väsuki, is always kind to us and always ready to help the gods. O lord of lords, show him your mercy and calm the fever in his mind.» 
Lord Brahmä said: 
My dear gods, it was I alone who previously entered the mind of the serpent Eläpatra and inspired him to speak encouraging words to his fellow serpents. When the appointed time comes, this lord of serpents, Väsuki, must act to fulfill those words of Eläpatra. For as Eläpatra has declared, all the sinful serpents shall perish, but not those who are righteous. 
The sage Jarat-käru is born, and he is dedicated to the most severe austerities. In due time, Väsuki must offer his sister, who is also named Jarat-käru, to the sage. O gods, the salvation of the serpents shall come as the serpent Eläpatra predicted, and not otherwise. 
Süta Gosvämé said: 
Hearing the words of the Grandfather, Väsuki, lord of the snakes, assigned numerous qualified serpents to constantly observe the sage Jarat-käru, commanding them, «As soon as the great sage Jarat-käru desires to select a wife, you are to come at once and inform me, for this will be our salvation.» 
Çré Çaunaka said: 
O son of Romaharñaëa, I would like to hear about the sage Jarat-käru, that great soul of whom you speak. He is celebrated in this world by the name Jarat-käru, but how did he get that name and what exactly does it signify? Kindly explain. 
Çré Süta Gosvämé replied: 
Jarä is said to mean «weakening» or «destruction,» and käru comes from the word däruëa, meaning «frightening» or «terrible.» The learned sage gradually emaciated his body with fierce austerities, until it became a fright to see, and thus, O brähmaëa, he became known as Jarat-käru. And Väsuki's sister received the same name for the very same reason. 
Upon hearing this, the devoted Çaunaka could not help laughing and complimented Ugra-çravä [Süta] for his clever explanation, saying, «Yes, that sounds right!» 
Süta Gosvämé continued: 
For a very long time that learned sage, strict in his vows, devoted himself to austerities and did not hanker for a wife. Fixed in austerity, learned in the holy texts, free of fatigue and fear, Jarat-käru remained perfectly celibate and raised his seminal fluid to the brain, thus nourishing his spiritual intellect. In this way that great soul wandered all over the earth, never hankering to have a wife, for the very thought could not enter his mind. 
Then, at a later time, there lived a celebrated king named Parikñit, who carried the glory of the Kuru dynasty. Like his great-grandfather Päëòu, this mighty-armed king was the greatest bowman in the world and enjoyed going on the hunt, as did Päëòu in the days of yore. 
Once that lord of the earth wandered about the forest, piercing deer, boars, hyena, buffalo, and other kinds of wild creatures. At a particular moment, he pierced a deer with a polished shaft and, taking his bow on his back, followed the wounded animal into the deep woods. Holding his bow, he followed the stag all over the forest, and thus he resembled the mighty Lord Çiva, who shot a sacrificial deer and followed it throughout the heavens. Never before had a deer shot by the king escaped with its life into the forest; this incident was surely an act of providence to bring the king back to heaven. 
Led by the deer, the king went far into the deep forest until, extremely fatigued and afflicted by thirst, he approached a forest sage who sat in a cow pasture, living off the abundant milk foam left by the calves who drank their mother's milk. The king, pained by hunger and exhausted, ran desperately up to the sage, who was strict in his vows, and, holding up his bow, inquired from the saintly one, «Good brähmaëa, I am the king, Parikñit, the son of Abhimanyu. I shot a deer, but then it escaped me. Have you seen it?» 
The sage was fixed in a religious vow of silence and did not speak a single word in reply. Angered by this, the king raised up a dead snake with the tip of his bow, draped it on the shoulder of the sage, and stared at the holy man. But the sage would not speak a word, whether good or bad. Having released his anger, and seeing the condition of the sage, the king became aggrieved. He then returned to his city, and the brähmaëa remained there in that very state. 
The sage had a son who, although young, possessed terrible strength, which he had developed by great austerities. The boy's name was Çåìgé. Although strict in his vows, he had a terrible temper that made him merciless. Çåìgé had been regularly engaged in worshiping the principal god, Lord Brahmä, who is kind to all creatures, until finally, after receiving Brahmä's permission, young Çåìgé returned to his home. He was a haughty and ill-tempered boy whose anger could be as deadly as poison. One day, O brähmaëa, when he was playing and joking with his friend Kåça, also a sage's son, Kåça said to him, «You are certainly powerful and a great ascetic, but don't be proud, Çåìgé, because your father now wears a corpse around his shoulders. Do not say a single word when you are sporting with people of our caliber, who are perfect and self-realized sons of sages. To what avail are your so-called manliness and your proud words when you will soon behold your own father wearing a corpse?» 
Süta Gosvämé said: 
When the powerful Çåìgé thus heard that his venerable father was bearing a corpse, his heart filled with anger and he burned in his rage. Glaring at Kåça, and giving up all kind and graceful speech, he demanded, «How is my father now wearing a dead snake?» 
Kåça said: 
Dear friend, King Parikñit was chasing deer in the forest, and just now he hung a dead snake on your father's shoulder. 
Çåìgé said: 
What did my father do to displease that wicked king? Tell me the truth, Kåça, and beware of the power of my austerities. 
Kåça replied: 
King Parikñit, the son of Abhimanyu, was hunting, and after piercing a deer with a feathered arrow he pursued it alone into the forest. As he wandered in that deep forest, the king could not find the deer, but he did see your father and inquired of him, but your father made no reply. The king, disturbed by hunger, thirst, and fatigue, inquired again and again from your father about the deer and asked him for water, but your father remained as silent and still as a stone pillar. He was practicing a vow of silence and would not reply. So the king, with the end of his bow, placed a dead snake on his shoulder. O Çåìgé, the king has gone back to his city of Hastinäpura, and your father, dedicated to his religious vows, remains even now in that same condition. 
Süta Gosvämé said: 
Hearing these words, the sage's son stood motionless, with unblinking eyes that turned bright red with rage. The maddened child seemed to scorch the world with his anger. Overwhelmed with anger, he then touched water and furiously cursed the king with all his strength. 
Çåìgé said: 
That sinner of a king has dared to hang a dead snake on the shoulders of my dear, elderly father, who was struggling to perform his religious penances. Therefore on the seventh night hence, Takñaka, mightiest of serpents, impelled by the strength of my words and by the fullness of his own fury, will engage his fiery prowess and deadly poison against this sinful king, a despiser of brähmaëas, who has brought infamy upon the Kuru dynasty. By my curse, Takñaka will deliver the king to the lord of death! 
Süta Gosvämé said: 
Thus cursing the king, the angry Çåìgé returned to his father, who sat in a cow pasture wearing the dead snake. Beholding the dead serpent upon his father's shoulder, he was again overwhelmed with anger, and tears of grief rolled down his cheeks. He said to him, «My dear father, when I heard that the evil monarch Parikñit had offended you, I became so angry that I invoked a terrible curse upon him. That worst of the Kurus has earned it! In seven days the best of serpents, Takñaka, will drag him to the extremely horrible abode of the lord of death!» 
O brähmaëa, the sorry father then replied to his enraged son, «My dear son, this does not please me. This is not the religious rule for ascetics, for the king is the best of men, and we are dwelling in his kingdom. He has always protected us according to the rules of justice. I do not condone his offense, but, my son, ascetics like us must nevertheless forgive a saintly king under all circumstances. If these laws of God are abused, they in turn will cause great injury without a doubt! 
«If the king does not protect us, anguish shall be our lot. My son, without the king it would be impossible for us to practice our religious life peacefully. When the king protects us in accordance with the sacred law, we are free to cultivate virtue; and by the rule of virtue a portion of our piety thus belongs to the guardian king. And King Parikñit especially, who is just like his great-grandfather, has protected us well, precisely as a king should protect every creature born in his realm. 
«He undoubtedly did not know that I was practicing a sacred vow and could not attend him. He must have been sorely afflicted by hunger and fatigue. Therefore, out of immaturity and impulsiveness you have performed an evil deed. No matter what the circumstance, it was wrong for us to curse the king. He did not deserve it.» 
Çåìgé said: 
O Father, if I have acted rashly, or even if I have committed a wicked deed, and whether I have pleased or displeased you, nevertheless that which I have already uttered cannot be changed. O Father! I must tell you that it will come to pass, for I am incapable of false speech, even when joking, much less while uttering a curse. 
The sage Çaméka said: 
I know of your terrible prowess, my son, that your words must come to pass. You have never uttered a false word, and your tragic curse upon the king cannot fail to act. It is always a father's duty, however, to correct even a grown son, so that the son acquires good character and a lasting reputation. What then of a mere child such as you, who has prospered by austerities and now acts like the lord of the world? Anger multiplies to excess in the hearts of great and powerful persons. You have distinguished yourself in the practice of religious principles, but observing that you are my son, and a mere boy, and that you have acted so rashly and impulsively, I see that it is my duty to correct you. You must become peaceful. Maintain yourself by collecting the simple eatables of the forest and give up your anger; thus you will never reject your religious principles. 
Anger plunders the hard-earned spiritual progress of those who endeavor for perfection, and those bereft of spiritual progress will never achieve their goal in life. When endeavoring spiritualists are able to forgive, their own equanimity will award them their desired perfection. This world can be enjoyed by those who forgive, and the next world as well is only for those who forgive. Therefore, practice always a life of forgiveness, with your senses fully controlled. By such forgiveness you will some day achieve the spiritual planets, which lie beyond the world of Brahmä and beyond the impersonal absolute. 
Despite this tragedy, my son, I must remain calm. I shall immediately do all I can by sending the following message to the king: «O king, my young and immature son, seeing your offense to me, was unable to tolerate it, and now he has cursed you.» 
Süta Gosvämé said: 
That ascetic sage of noble vows gave the message to a disciple, and, his heart breaking with compassion, sent him to King Parikñit. The sage carefully instructed a well-behaved and serious disciple named Gaura-mukha to inquire about the king's welfare and about the news of state affairs in general. 
Gaura-mukha went quickly to that ruler of men, who had benefited the Kuru dynasty in so many ways. The gatekeepers duly announced his arrival, and he entered the king's palace. The brähmaëa Gaura-mukha was thereupon properly honored by the king, and after he was well-rested from his journey he accurately related to the monarch, in the presence of the royal ministers, the full and frightening message of the sage Çaméka, omitting nothing. 
«Dear king,» he said, «there is a most virtuous and self-controlled sage named Çaméka, who is peaceful and greatly austere and who lives in your kingdom. O tiger among men, O glory of the Bharatas, with the tip of your bow you wrapped a dead snake around the sage's shoulders. He himself was tolerant of your deed, but his son could not abide it. O king, without the knowledge of his father, he has cursed you! On the seventh night hence, Takñaka will certainly cause your death. None can mitigate the curse, and therefore the compassionate sage again and again urges you to care for your soul. The sage was unable to restrain his enraged son, and therefore, O king, he who earnestly desires your welfare has sent me to you.» 
Hearing these terrible words, the beloved king of the Kuru dynasty began to grieve. He was himself highly advanced in spiritual knowledge, and thus he grieved not for his own passing away but for his offense against the sage. Understanding that the accomplished sage had been absorbed in meditation under a religious vow of silence, the king lamented all the more. When he understood the sage Çaméka's sincere compassion upon him, his grief and remorse grew still greater, and his heart was filled with sorrow for the sin he had committed by offending the holy ascetic. Noble as a god, King Parikñit lamented only his sin of offending the sage and nothing more. He sent Gaura-mukha back with this message: «May the holy Çaméka again grant me his mercy.» 
As soon as Gaura-mukha had left, the king consulted with his ministers, his mind disturbed by his offense. The king knew how to take good counsel, and together with his ministers he came to a decision. He arranged for a well-protected platform with but a single support. He also arranged for his security by bringing proper medicine and those who knew how to treat the diseased condition of the soul, and he placed all around him brähmaëas who had perfected the chanting of Vedic mantras. Situated on that platform, he performed all the duties of a saintly king, along with his ministers. The king was protected on all sides because he knew the principles of religion. 
On the seventh day, O best of the twice-born, the learned Käçyapa came there to protect the life of the king with his medical skill. Having heard that on this seventh day the most powerful of serpents, Takñaka, would send the greatest of kings to the abode of the lord of death, he thought, «When the king is bitten by that powerful snake, I shall counteract the feverish effects of the poison. Thus I shall gain both material and spiritual benefit.» 
As Takñaka, the leader of the serpents, moved toward the king, he saw Käçyapa traveling with great determination in the same direction. Transforming himself into an elderly brähmaëa, Takñaka, chief of the serpents, said to the exalted sage Käçyapa, «Where are you going so quickly, and what is it that you are so anxious to do?» 
Käçyapa said: 
On this very day Takñaka, the greatest of serpents, will consume with his poison the heroic king of the Kuru dynasty. Dear and gentle brähmaëa, as soon as that leader of the race of snakes burns the mighty Kuru king with his fiery poison, I shall immediately counteract the effect. It is for this that I am going so quickly. 
Takñaka said: 
I am that very Takñaka, O brähmaëa, and I shall indeed bite the ruler of the earth! Turn back! You have no power to cure a man bitten by me. 
Käçyapa said: 
I shall in fact cure the king! As soon as you bite him, I shall counteract your poison; I have made my calculations on the strength of my vast knowledge. 
Takñaka said: 
If you have any power to cure someone bitten by me, Käçyapa, then revive a tree that I shall bite. Before your very eyes, O best of brähmaëas, I shall burn this banyan tree with my poison. Try your best to save it. Show me the power of your mantras! 
Käçyapa said: 
Carry out your threat, O ruler of snakes, and bite the tree. But once you have bitten it, O serpent, I shall bring it back to life. 
Süta Gosvämé said: 
Even as the ruler of snakes was thus addressed by the great soul Käçyapa, the powerful serpent approached the large banyan tree and bit it. Once bitten by Takñaka and filled with his poison, the entire tree at once burst into flames. Having burned the tree, the snake said to Käçyapa, «O best of brähmaëas, now try to bring this tree back to life!» 
Although the tree was reduced to mere ashes by the mighty serpent's power, Käçyapa nevertheless collected all those ashes and then spoke these words: «O snake ruler, behold the power of my science when it acts upon this noble tree. Before your eyes, serpent, I shall bring this tree back to full life.» 
The exalted and learned Käçyapa, the best of the twice-born, then brought back to life a tree that had been turned into a heap of ashes. First he created a sapling, then gave it two leaves, adding twigs and branches, and at last manifested the full-grown tree, precisely as it was before. Seeing the great soul Käçyapa restore life to the tree, Takñaka said, «O brähmaëa, what you have done is truly amazing. Most learned one, it appears that you can nullify my poison and that of other powerful serpents. O ascetic, for what purpose are you going to the king? What do you hope to gain? Whatever reward you hope to obtain from this powerful monarch, I myself shall give you, even if it be something very difficult and rare to achieve. 
«This king is afflicted by a brähmaëa's curse, and his life is at an end. If you try to save him, O learned sage, your success will be doubtful, and your brilliant reputation, which is spread all over the three worlds, will vanish like a sun that has lost its warm rays.» 
Käçyapa said: 
O serpent, I am going there to obtain wealth, but if you yourself give it to me, then I shall return home as you desire. 
Takñaka said: 
As much wealth as you seek from the king I shall give you now, and more. Desist and turn back, noble brähmaëa. 
Süta Gosvämé said: 
When the very powerful and wise Käçyapa heard these words of Takñaka, he began to reflect deeply on the fate of the king. With his divine knowledge the mighty sage could understand that the life of 
the king, born in the line of Päëòu, had actually come to an end. Käçyapa, the noble seer, collected from Takñaka all the wealth he desired and departed. When by this arrangement the great soul Käçyapa turned back, Takñaka quickly continued on toward the city of Hastinäpura. 
On the way, Takñaka heard that the great monarch was surrounded by persons expert in counteracting poison through mantras and medicines. [Even though the king was detached from his fate, his people were determined to save him.] Takñaka began to think, «I will have to trick the king through some kind of magical process. What would be the best means?» 
Thereupon Takñaka dispatched to the king a group of serpents disguised as ascetics with an offering of fruit, leaves, and water. 
Takñaka said: 
All of you must now carefully perform this duty. Go to the king and make him accept this gift of fruit, leaves, and water. 
Süta Gosvämé said: 
Instructed by Takñaka, the snakes acted accordingly, bringing the king a gift of darbha grass, water, and fruit. The noble monarch accepted it all, and having received the gift with all the formalities due the sages, he sent them on their way. When the serpents disguised as ascetics had departed, the monarch of men spoke to his ministers and well-wishing friends: «Sit by my side and eat all these sweet fruits the ascetics have brought.» Then the king, with his ministers, desired to eat the fruit. The ruler held up a fruit upon which there sat a tiny copper-colored insect with a short body and blackish eyes, O Çaunaka. Taking this fruit in his hands, that best of kings then said to his ministers, «The sun is setting, so there is no danger for me today from poison. But a young sage cursed me to die today, so let his words be true! May this insect be transformed into Takñaka and bite me so that he will not have uttered a lie.» 
The ministers, moved by the will of God, agreed with the king, and having spoken thus, the monarch then quickly placed the insect on his neck and laughed. The saintly king had lost his external consciousness, [and being prepared to ascend to his spiritual destination,] he desired to give up his mortal frame. As the king smiled, Takñaka came out of the fruit that had been given to the king and wrapped himself around the great ruler. 
Süta Gosvämé said: 
When the ministers saw their monarch enwrapped by the serpent, their faces turned white and they cried out in utter distress. Hearing the sound of the king's departure, they scattered about. Overcome with grief, they saw the lord of serpents, the extraordinary serpent Takñaka, his duty done, streaking bright as a lotus through the sky, as if to part the hair of heaven. The house burst into flames from the fire of the serpent's poison, and as the king's men fled in fear it crumbled and fell as if struck by lightning. 
When the great soul King Parikñit had thus departed from this world, the royal priest, who was a self-realized brähmaëa, joined with the ministers and performed all the funeral ceremonies meant to bestow blessings upon the king in his next life. The residents of the royal capital then met together, and everyone agreed that the king's son must succeed his father to the throne. Thus Janamejaya, the young hero of the Kuru dynasty, whom all declared to be invincible, was appointed to lead the great Kuru empire. 
Though still a young man, Janamejaya was noble by nature, and acting in concert with royal ministers and priests, he proved to be an excellent ruler of men. This firstborn son of Parikñit administered the kingdom exactly as his heroic great-grandfather Päëòu had done. The ministers, observing that the king cut down like fire those who would pose a threat to the country, now felt him worthy to accept a royal bride, and so they approached the king of Käçé, Suvarëa-varmä, to request his daughter, Vapuñöamä, as a wife for the Kuru leader. The Käçé king agreed to give his daughter Vapuñöamä to the Kuru hero after carefully studying his character and virtues, and Janamejaya joyfully accepted her, and never again did he think of other women. 
Thus with a happy heart this powerful king, the best of rulers, sported with his wife amid lakes and blossoming woods, just as in ancient times Purüravä had enjoyed life upon obtaining the celestial Ürvaçé. Likewise Vapuñöamä, having obtained such a handsome ruler as her husband, loved him deeply, and in their free moments she gave him much delight, for she was the joy and beauty of the king's palace. 
The Story of Jarat-käru and the Birth of Ästéka 
Süta Gosvämé said: 
At that time the great and wise ascetic Jarat-käru wandered all over the world, and wherever he happened to be at sunset, that place became his home for the night. With unusual strength he undertook religious duties that are most difficult for ordinary persons, fasting from food and consuming only air. Thus traveling about, bathing in sacred lakes and rivers, the sage caused his body to wither day by day, until one day he happened to behold his forefathers hanging upside down in a hole. They were suspended over an abyss by a clump of fibers that had been reduced to a single thread by a mouse who lived in the hole and daily nibbled away at the vanishing rope. Those poor souls were weak from lack of food and yearned to be saved from that miserable hole. Jarat-käru, who appeared equally wretched, approached them and said, «Who are you, good sirs, hanging here by a mere clump of grass whose fibers are being eaten away by the mouse who lives in the hole? There is but a single shoot left growing from this clump, and that too the mouse is steadily removing with his sharp teeth. There is little remaining. He will surely cut his way through before long, and all of you will fall headfirst into this hole. 
«I am very unhappy to see you here upside down, victims of a terrible misfortune! Tell me at once what I can do to help you. If I can deliver you from this calamity by donating a quarter of my austerities, or even a third or a half, then I will do so. Or even if all my austerities are required to free you from this plight, then so be it. I will happily do it!» 
Jarat-käru's forefathers replied: 
O best of brähmaëas, you thrive in your celibate life and thus you wish to deliver us from this calamity. But our problem cannot be eased by austerities, dear friend, for we also enjoy the fruits of past austerities. That is not the problem, nor is it the solution. O best of holy teachers, we are about to fall into a filthy hell because our family line has been interrupted. 
Dear well-wisher, we are hanging over this hole, and thus we do not have our wits about us. Although you must surely be famous in the world for your strength and kindness, we do not know who you are. You must be a very fortunate and successful person indeed, since you are so mercifully approaching us and grieving over our pitiable condition. Listen, good sir, and learn who we really are. 
O great one, we are the sages known as the Yäyävaras, strict in our vows yet fallen from the worlds of the pious by the destruction of our family line. Our penances and piety have been in vain, for there is no thread, no offspring, to continue our family line. Actually, we still have one thread remaining, but for all practical purposes he may as well not exist. So diminished is our good fortune that our only surviving relative is an unfortunate fellow known as Jarat-käru. He is a master of all the Vedic literature, but he is so avid to perform his austerities that we have been left to fall into this most miserable calamity: he has no wife and no son, nor does he have a single living relative. Because of this alone we hang here over this hole, almost out of our minds, deprived of anyone to care for us. 
Now that you have seen us here, kindly help us and tell him for us, «Your wretched forefathers are hanging upside-down over an abyss. O strong-willed man, kindly take a wife and beget children. You are rich in austerities, yet you are the only remaining link of our family, the only one!» 
O brähmaëa, the cluster of grass from which you see us hanging is in fact our family line, which was once numerous and strong, and the plant fibers you see here are our descendants who continued the family line but were devoured, dear friend, by time. The half-eaten fiber that you now witness, O brähmaëa, is the sole reason we are hanging here, for it is our only living descendant, and he will only practice austerities. 
The mouse that you see, brähmaëa, is the great force of time, slowly wearing away that fool Jarat-käru, who is so absorbed in his severe austerities. So foolish is that boy, and so greedy is he to acquire the fruits of austerity, that he proudly carries on, mindless of how he affects us. O holy man, his penances will certainly not save us, for we have been cut at the roots and cast into utter ruination. Time has plundered our keen intellect. Look at us! We are headed for hell like ordinary miscreants! 
When we have fallen there along with our grandfathers and forefathers, he too, likewise cut down by time, will go straight to hell, for the opinion of the wise, friend, is that no austerity, no sacrifice, or any other glorious means of purification equals the piety and holiness of preserving a God-conscious family. 
Dear friend, you must tell the ascetic Jarat-käru what you have seen here today. O brähmaëa, tell him everything; speak to him in such a way that he will accept a lawful wife and beget children. Oh, for God's sake please help us! 
Süta Gosvämé said: 
Hearing all this, Jarat-käru lost himself in anguish and replied to his forefathers in a voice choked with tears of grief. 
«I alone am that sinner Jarat-käru, your immature and misguided son. You should punish me for my misdeeds.» 
The forefathers replied: 
O son, by God's grace alone did you happen to arrive at this place. O brähmaëa, why have you not taken a wife? 
Jarat-käru said: 
Dear forefathers, my life's goal, which has always been in my heart, is to practice celibacy and thus bring this body into the next world as well without ever passing semen. Yet as I see all of you hanging here like so many bats, my mind recoils from celibate life. Dear forefathers, I shall act for your happiness and, as you wish, doubtlessly enter family life–but only if I find a virgin girl with the same name as mine. There will be a certain woman who will present herself to me as a religious offering, and I shall accept her on the condition that I not bear the cost of her maintenance. O forefathers, I shall enter into family life only if per-mitted to do so under these conditions. Otherwise, the truth is that 
I shall not. 
Süta Gosvämé said: 
Having thus spoken to his forefathers, the muni Jarat-käru continued traveling about the earth. But he was old, dear Çaunaka, and did not obtain a wife. He at last grew hopeless, though still driven by the plight of his forefathers, until finally one day he entered a forest and cried out in utter despair, «Whatever creatures there are, whether walking about or rooted in the earth or invisible to my eyes, may you all hear my words! I was engaged in severe austerities when my poor, suffering forefathers commanded me to get married. Out of kindness to them I am trying to marry, and thus I wander all over the world, hoping to obtain the gift of a suitable girl. Know that I am poor and wretched yet bound to obey my forefathers. If any creature within the sound of my voice has such a daughter, please offer her to me, for I have been everywhere. 
«The girl meant to be my wife has the same name as I and will be given freely as a religious offering. Moreover, I will not bear the cost of her maintenance. I beg all of you, bestow upon me such a girl!» 
Just then, the serpents who were closely watching Jarat-käru carefully noted his behavior and reported it to Väsuki. Hearing the news, the serpent lord summoned his sister, who was bedecked with fine dress and ornaments, and went with her to the sage. O brähmaëa, when Väsuki, the king of snakes, arrived in the forest, he at once presented his sister as a religious offering to the great soul Jarat-käru. However the sage did not accept her, for he was thinking, «She must not have the same name as I, and besides, we have not even discussed her maintenance.» 
Jarat-käru simply stood there meditating on his free life as an ascetic, his mind divided over whether or not to accept her as a bride. Then, O son of Bhågu, he asked for her name and said, «Väsuki, I will not be responsible for maintaining this girl!» 
Süta Gosvämé said: 
Väsuki then spoke these words to the sage Jarat-käru: «This girl is my sister, and her name, like yours, is Jarat-käru. Like you, she is dedicated to the practice of austerities. O best of the twice-born, I shall take the responsibility to maintain your wife, so please accept her. You are an ascetic whose wealth is austerity, and therefore I shall make every effort to see that her needs are taken care of and that she is well protected.» 
When Väsuki promised, «I shall support my sister,» Jarat-käru agreed to go to the serpent's home. There that virtuous soul, most learned in mantras, senior by austerity, and great in his vows, took the hand of Väsuki's sister in accord with religious rules and with the chanting of sacred hymns. Then, to the praises of great sages, Jarat-käru took his wife to the brilliant residential quarters the serpent lord had carefully designated for him. A bed was prepared with valuable coverings, and he dwelled in those quarters in the constant company of his wife. 
[That saintly man had never wanted to marry, but he had done so to save his forefathers. It was not easy for him to act like a husband.] Thus he established this rule with his wife: «You are never to do anything that displeases me, nor correct or criticize me at any time. If you do anything that displeases me, I shall renounce you and give up my residence in your house. Please take seriously these words I speak to you.» 
Hearing this, the sister of the serpent lord was seized by a terrible anxiety. [Her entire race depended on her, and her mission was clear: somehow she must satisfy her husband and beget by him a child who would stop King Janamejaya's dreaded sacrifice. Thus the harsh terms of marriage left her shaken.] But despite her intense grief, she said to him, «So be it!» 
Just as she had promised, this most respectable woman, so anxious to please her husband, served the unhappy man with a devotion and skill as rare as the sight of a white crow. When her fertile season arrived, the sister of Väsuki purified her body and with perfect etiquette stood before her husband, the great sage. She thus obtained from him a child who even in her womb glowed with the luster of fire. Conceived by the most advanced of ascetics, the embryo shone with the effulgence of the fire-god and grew exactly like the waxing moon in the bright fortnight. 
Some days after conception, the great ascetic Jarat-käru placed his head in the lap of his wife and slept. He seemed unhappy and tired, and as the learned one slept the sun began to set over the hill. Seeing that the day was ending, Väsuki's sister worried about her husband, for he had sacred duties to perform at sunset, and the thoughtful lady feared that if he did not awaken he would transgress his religious principles. 
«What is my first duty,» she thought, «to awake my husband or not? This saintly man is always melancholy; how can I avoid offending him? Let me consider which is worse for a religious man–anger or neglect of his religious duties. Actually, to neglect religious duties would be the worse of the two.» 
Thus she made up her mind: «If I wake him, he will surely become angry, but if I do not wake him, he will sleep through the juncture of day and night and neglect the sacred duties that must be performed at twilight.» 
Thus settling the matter in her mind, the serpent princess Jarat-käru, whose voice was beautiful, spoke these sweet words to the sleeping sage, whose fierce austerities made him glow like fire. 
«You must arise, most fortunate one, for the sun is setting. My lord, so strict of vow, dip your hands in water and perform the evening worship. At this charming yet perilous moment you must ignite the sacred flames of sacrifice, for the sandhyä, the juncture of day and night, is vanishing into the western horizon.» 
Thus addressed, the advanced ascetic Jarat-käru spoke to his wife with trembling lips, «You have insulted me, O serpent woman! No longer will I live in your presence. I shall go just as I came. O shapely lady, I know in my heart that the mighty sun does not dare set at the appointed time while I am sleeping. No one likes to live with a person who insults him, what to speak of one as strict about the rules as I am!» 
Hearing her husband's words, the devoted sister of Väsuki, Jarat-käru, felt her heart breaking, and there within their residential quarters she replied as follows: «I awoke you not out of contempt, learned brähmaëa, but rather that you not violate your religious duties.» 
Thus addressed, the powerful ascetic Jarat-käru was filled with anger, and anxious to leave his serpent wife, he said, «With my God-given voice I have never spoken a lie, and I tell you now that I shall leave, O serpent lady. Our agreement was that nothing would be done to displease me, and both of us accepted it. You are a good woman, and I have lived happily with you. 
«O shy and innocent lady, when I am gone tell your brother, `My husband has left.' Do not grieve for me once I have departed.» 
Addressed thus, the lovely and shapely Jarat-käru was overcome by anxiety and grief, and she tried to reply to her husband, but her voice choked up with sobs and her mouth went dry. That slender princess simply stood there with hands folded, her eyes filled with tears, struggling to regain her composure. Finally, with a trembling heart she spoke: 
«It is not right for you who know the principles of virtue to abandon me, who have done you no wrong! I have loved you and acted always for your good. A religious man should not leave a religious wife. 
«O best of brähmaëas, I married you for a noble purpose. What will Väsuki say to his foolish sister if I fail to fulfill that purpose? O saintly one, my relatives were cursed by their mother, and the child they are all hoping for has not yet appeared. If only I could have your child, my relatives would be saved. O brähmaëa, my sacred union with you must not go in vain. 
«My lord, because I seek the good of my people, I beg your compassion! O saintly one, you have placed your seed within me, but our child is not yet born. How can you, such a great soul, suddenly decide to reject your sinless wife and go away?» 
Being so addressed, the ascetic philosopher Jarat-käru spoke to his wife in fair and fitting words: 
«O blessed woman, there is a child in your womb who is as brilliant as the god of fire. This son of yours will be the most saintly of sages, and he will master the Vedas and all their supplementary branches.» 
Having spoken thus, the law-abiding Jarat-käru departed, for the great sage had firmly decided to resume his practice of severe austerities. [It had never been his desire to marry, but he had accepted a wife to 
please his forefathers, and in so doing he had also redeemed the race of pious serpents. His forefathers and the serpents were delighted by the marriage, but Jarat-käru had never wanted it. Even so, he dutifully conceived a child who would save both his forefathers and the race of serpents.] 
Süta Gosvämé said: 
O thriving ascetic, as soon as her husband departed, Jarat-käru quickly went to her brother and told him exactly what had happened. Upon hearing her most discouraging news, that leader of snakes, now the most miserable of all, said to his grieving sister, «You surely know, dear sister, the reason for which I bestowed you on that man and the duty that was to be done. If a son is born to you he will save the serpent race. Lord Brahmä told me in the presence of the gods that your powerful son would surely save us from the snake sacrifice. Good woman, are you indeed with child from that best of sages? I pray that your marriage with that learned man was not fruitless. Admittedly it is not proper for me to ask you about such affairs, but the extreme gravity of the matter forces me to question you in this way. 
«Knowing how irritable your husband is due to his excessive austerities, I shall not pursue him because he would be apt to curse me at any moment. Good woman, tell me all that your husband did and thus remove the terrible thorn that has lain so long in my heart.» 
At these words, Jarat-käru replied to the suffering Väsuki, and her words gave new hope to the serpent lord. 
«When I questioned my husband about a child, the exalted ascetic pointed to my womb and said, `It is,' and then departed. I do not recall, O king, that he ever spoke falsely, even in jest, so how could he tell a lie at a time when he was leaving his wife forever? Indeed, he said to me, `You should not worry about the success of your mission, serpent woman; your son will indeed take birth, and he shall be as resplendent as the blazing sun.' 
«O brother, having thus spoken, my husband left for the forest to perform austerities. Now may this terrible suffering in your heart be gone!» 
Hearing this, Väsuki, ruler of the snakes, accepted his sister's words with the greatest of joy, declaring, «So be it!» That finest of serpents then honored his pregnant sister with an appropriate offering of encouraging and respectful words, wealth, and other gifts. 
O best of brähmaëas, the greatly powerful embryo, shining like the sun, grew steadily in her womb like the waxing moon in the heavens. In due time, O learned one, the sister of the snakes gave birth to a male infant who shone like a celestial child and who was destined to vanquish the fears of his mother's and father's houses. 
The child was reared there in the palace of the serpent king, and he learned the Vedas and their branches from Bhärgava, the son of Cyavana. Even as a boy he carefully followed his vows, for he was richly endowed with spiritual wisdom and goodness. The world came to know him by the name Ästéka because his father, upon leaving for the forest, had said of him «Asti!», «He is!» 
The child, of immeasurable intelligence, was raised with utmost care in the house of the serpent king. As he continued to mature, he delighted the serpent race, who found in him all the glory and grace of the gold-giving, trident-wielding Çiva, the lord of the gods. 
The Snake Sacrifice of Janamejaya 
The sage Çaunaka said: 
Please tell me again in detail all that King Janamejaya said to his ministers when he questioned them about his father's journey to the divine kingdom. 
Süta Gosvämé said: 
O brähmaëa, when the ministers were questioned by the king, they all explained to him about the demise of his father, Mahäräja Parikñit. Hear now as I describe to you that conversation. 
King Janamejaya said: 
Gentlemen, you know how my father lived his life and how that very famous king, in the course of time, met his death. By directly hearing from you all about my father's life, by learning what his deeds were, I shall walk the way of righteousness and never meet with evil. 
Süta Gosvämé said: 
O brähmaëa, thus questioned by the great-spirited king, those learned ministers, who knew fully the religious law, replied to the monarch in these words. 
«Your father was a religious man, a great soul who cared for all of God's creatures. Listen now to the deeds he performed in this world and how he went to his final destination. 
«Your father organized human society into its natural divisions of varëa and äçrama. and all people worked according to their individual nature and ability. The king knew well the divine law, and he protected the citizens with justice, for he himself was justice personified. He guarded the earth goddess with unparalleled courage, and not a soul hated that beautiful king, nor did he hate anyone. He was equal and fair to all creatures and ruled like the fatherly gods who are patrons of mankind. 
«Teachers, warriors, merchants, and workers cheerfully performed their respective duties, O king, because they were so expertly engaged by that king. He cared for the widowed, the unprotected, the poor, and the maimed, and for all creatures his handsome countenance shone like a second moon. 
«He studied the military science under the illustrious Çäradvata and was steady in his prowess, a speaker of truth, a brilliant monarch who nourished and satisfied his people. O Janamejaya, your very famous father was well loved by Lord Kåñëa Himself, and so he was loved by all the world. When all the descendants of the Kuru dynasty were slain, mighty Parikñit took birth as the son of Abhimanyu and Uttarä. 
«The king was endowed with all the noble qualities and dealt expertly with the practical and spiritual demands of kingship. He was self-controlled, self-realized, brilliant of mind, and a humble servant of the elderly and senior. 
«He was careful to avoid the six vicesà and possessed brilliant powers of discrimination. Your father was the greatest scholar of political science and ethics, and he cared for all the creatures of his realm for sixty years. Then a snake brought the king to his destined and unavoidable end, and you, O best of men, have inherited this kingdom of the Kuru clan, to reign for one thousand years!» 
King Janamejaya said: 
In our family never was there a king who did not do good to the people, nor a single ruler not loved by his subjects, and this was especially due to the exalted conduct of our forefathers and their utter devotion to duty. But how did my father meet his death? What were the circumstances? Please explain this to me as it is, for I wish to hear the truth. 
Süta Gosvämé said: 
All the ministers loved King Janamejaya, as they had loved his father, and they were devoted to the young king's welfare. Being thus urged to speak by their monarch, they replied as follows: 
«O king, just as the glorious Päëòu was the greatest of bowmen in battle and thus protected the world, so was his great-grandson, your father, the greatest archer of his day. [Since the world depended on such men as them to uphold justice, both Päëòu and your father would often go to the forest to hunt and thus maintain their skills in sharp readiness.] We remember well how your father would delegate to us all the affairs of state and then spend his time in the woods, perfecting his extraordinary talent with a bow. 
«Once, as he wandered in the forest, he pierced a deer with a feathered shaft and then quickly followed the deer as it fled into the deep forest. Moving on foot, burdened with a heavy sword, and carrying a bow and quiver, your father could not find the lost deer in the dense woods. Already sixty years of age, he became exhausted and famished in the great forest. Suddenly he saw a learned sage nearby. The leader of kings questioned the sage, who sat silently in deep meditation. Though the king repeatedly spoke to him, the muni did not speak a single word. Afflicted by hunger and fatigue, the king suddenly grew angry at the peaceful sage, who sat as silent and still as a tree. The king did not realize that the holy sage was meditating and had taken a vow of silence. Overcome with anger, your father insulted him. O best of the Bharatas, with the end of his bow he lifted up a dead snake from the ground and placed it on the shoulder of that pure-hearted sage. The wise man did not speak to him, neither approving nor condemning the king's act, but simply remained there, bearing the snake on his shoulder, and did not become angry at the king. 
The ministers continued: 
O best of kings, the exhausted king was afflicted with hunger, and having placed a snake on the sage's shoulder, he returned to his city. 
The sage had a famous son named Çåìgé, who had taken birth from a cow. Though still a young boy, Çåìgé was very powerful; indeed, he possessed fearsome strength and a terrible temper. With his father's permission he had gone to play, and while playing he heard from a friend that his father had been insulted by your father. O Janamejaya, tiger among men, Çåìgé heard that although his father had done no wrong, your father had wrapped a dead snake around his shoulders. 
This sage was pure and self-controlled, a most dedicated ascetic who regularly performed extraordinary deeds. Indeed, he was a most learned man, his soul illumined by austerity. He was the master of all his senses 
free of selfish desire, pure in word and deed. Thus your father had insulted a respectable senior, one free of envy and small-mindedness and worthy to give shelter to all creatures. Alas, your father did not know that the sage was fixed in meditation under a vow of silence. 
Hearing of this incident, the sage's mighty son was filled with fury and cursed your father. Though but a child in years, the boy was mature in his asceticism, having practiced for many lifetimes. Blazing with power and rage, the boy quickly touched water and then directed these words at your father: «On the seventh night hence, the angry Takñaka, leader of the Nägas, will bring down that sinful man who flung a dead snake upon my sinless spiritual master. Behold the power of my asceticism!» 
Speaking thus, Çåìgé went to his father, and seeing him in that same condition, he told him of the curse. The tiger among sages then sent word to your father as follows: «O lord of the earth, you have been cursed by my son, so please do what you must, O king, for Takñaka shall bring you down with his fiery venom.» O Janamejaya, hearing these terrible words, your father was extremely concerned to end his life properly, and he prepared himself for the serpent king Takñaka. 
When the seventh day had arrived, a devoted sage named Käçyapa desired to approach the king, but the serpent lord spied Käçyapa as he hurried along, and disguised as a fellow brähmaëa, Takñaka said to him, «Sir, where are you going in such a hurry, and what is the task you wish to accomplish?» 
Käçyapa replied: 
The snake Takñaka is about to bite King Parikñit, the best of the Kurus, and I hasten to that very place. I am hurrying there because as soon as the snake bites the king I shall immediately neutralize the venom. The snake will not overcome the king with me there to help him. 
Takñaka said: 
It is I who shall bite the king, but why do you wish to bring him back to life? Tell me what you want, and I shall give it to you immediately! Then go back to your home. 
The ministers said: 
Thus addressed by the serpent king, the sage replied, «I desire wealth; therefore I go to the king.» 
Takñaka spoke to the mighty sage with sweet words, saying, «As much wealth as you would beg from the king, O sinless one, you may take from me–and more–and return at once to your home.» 
When the serpent had thus spoken, Käçyapa, exalted among men, took from Takñaka all the wealth he desired and turned back from his mission. Having thus stopped the learned brähmaëa, Takñaka then took on yet another disguise and approached your righteous father, the best of monarchs, who sat peacefully, fully prepared for his destiny. Takñaka burned the greatest of monarchs with the fire of his poison, and thereafter you, Janamejaya, were installed on the royal throne for the glory and victory of the Kuru clan. 
O virtuous king, we have described to you all these tragic events exactly as we saw and heard them. We have invented nothing. O glorious ruler, having heard of the destruction of a king and the humiliation of this wise Uttaìka, you should now take proper measures. 
King Janamejaya said: 
First I want to hear about the conversation that took place between the lord of snakes and the brähmaëa Käçyapa. Since they met on a deserted forest path, who could have seen or heard them and reported the information to all of you? 
The ministers replied: 
Hear, O king, how and from whom we came to know that the best of brähmaëas and the most powerful of serpents actually met on a forest path. O earthly ruler, a certain man happened to be in that forest collecting firewood and had climbed up into a tall tree looking for dead and dry branches. Neither the snake nor the sage was aware that the man was up in the tree, and he was burned to ashes along with the tree. O best of kings, the man was then brought back to life, along with the lordly tree, by the power of the twice-born brähmaëa. O noble ruler, the man then returned to the city and recounted all that had happened between Takñaka and the brähmaëa. We have now explained to you exactly what happened, just as we heard it. Having heard this, you who are a tiger among kings should now do as you wish. 
Süta Gosvämé said: 
Hearing the words of his ministers, King Janamejaya felt a searing pain in his heart, and overcome with anguish, he pounded his fist into his hand. A long, burning breath issued from his handsome mouth, and tears poured from his lotus eyes. The ruler of the world, lost in grief, then said, «Gentlemen, now that I have heard from you how my father left this world and journeyed to the kingdom above, my mind is fixed 
in unbreakable determination. Please hear of my decision. The wicked Takñaka cruelly attacked my father, and now he must pay for 
his deed. 
«If Takñaka had simply carried out the words of Çåìgé and bitten the king, my father would still be alive. And if the king had lived, by the mercy of Käçyapa and the good counsel of the ministers, what would that snake have lost? Käçyapa was invincible and desired to save my father's life, yet out of sheer ignorance this snake turned back that exalted brähmaëa. Takñaka is evil, and great is his sin, for he dared to offer gifts to a brähmaëa so that my father might die. I shall now please the sage Uttaìka, and I shall greatly please my own tortured soul. And I shall surely satisfy all of you, for now I shall avenge the murder of 
my father!» 
Çüta Gosvämé said: 
Having made his statement and gained the approval of his ministers, the very handsome son of Parikñit, a tiger of the Bharata race, then swore that he would conduct a snake sacrifice. Calling for his priest and others learned in the science of sacrifice, the eloquent monarch, anxious to accomplish his mission, then spoke these words: 
«Gentlemen, the wicked Takñaka slew my beloved father. Now kindly tell me how I may avenge that sin. Do you know the process by which I can send Takñaka and his associates into the blazing fire of sacrifice? As he once burned my father with the fire of his poison, so now in the same way I wish to burn that sinner to ashes.» 
The sacrificial priests replied: 
O king, there is a great sacrifice that was created by the gods as if to fulfill your very purpose. O ruler of men, it is described in the ancient Puräëas as the Snake Sacrifice, and experts agree that only you, as emperor, are in a position to sponsor such a sacrifice. If that be your desire, we possess the necessary technology to carry it out.» 
Süta Gosvämé said: 
O noble sage, when thus addressed by his ministers, the saintly king envisioned the serpent Takñaka falling into the blazing mouth of the sacrificial fire, and thus he said to the brähmaëas who were expert in chanting potent hymns, «Please procure the necessary articles, for I shall carry out the sacrifice!» 
O best of the twice-born, priests then arranged for a careful survey of the king's land according to scriptural codes, in order to find the most effective ground for sacrifice. The priests were distinguished scholars and self-realized souls, and under their guidance the sacrificial arena was properly constructed and, with the greatest of opulence, bedecked with abundant jewels and grains. The arena was attended by learned communities of respectable men. 
After the sacrificial arena was properly measured and built in the most desirable way, the priests blessed the king for the accomplishment of the Snake Sacrifice. Before this, however, a great portent arose, which signaled that an obstacle would impede the performance of the sacrifice. As the sacrificial ground was being prepared, a master builder of vast wisdom, thoroughly schooled in the art of construction, spoke these words: «Considering the time and place in which the land survey was begun, this ceremony will not be completed and a brähmaëa will be the cause.» Thus spoke the twice-born scholar, who was learned in the ancient science. 
Hearing these words before his consecration into the ceremony, the king said to the royal gatekeeper, «Let no one who is unknown to me enter this arena.» 
The procedure of the Snake Sacrifice then began, precisely according to rule, and each of the sacrificial priests carefully attended to his duties. Gravely garbed in black robes, their eyes reddened from smoke, they poured the potent ghee into the blazing fire of sacrifice, chanting the deadly and irrevocable mantras. As they proceeded to offer the race of snakes into the fiery mouth of sacrifice, the minds of all the chest-crawling serpents trembled with terror as snakes came flying and dropped into the sacrificial flames, writhing in wretched pain and crying out to one another. Quivering, gasping, hissing, and coiling wildly around one another with their heads and tails, they plunged into the wondrous fire. 
White snakes, black snakes, blue snakes, old snakes, and young snakes, all shrieking in terror, fell into the mighty blaze. O best of the twice-born, thus did hundreds of thousands, millions, and tens of millions of helpless serpents meet their destruction. Some were as tiny as mice, others as thick as elephant trunks, and still others, having giant bodies and terrible strength, were as furious as maddened bull elephants. But all serpents, the mighty as well as the insignificant, with their varieties of hues, their horrible venom, and their awesome deadly power, fell into the unyielding fire, broken and ruined by the club of a mother's curse. 
Çré Çaunaka said: 
In the snake sacrifice of the learned Päëòava king, Janamejaya, who were the great sages who acted as the sacrificial priests? Who were the assembly members in that terrifying snake sacrifice, which caused such extreme fear and grief to the serpents? Dear Süta, kindly explain all this in detail, for those powerful men, who knew all the technology of sacrifice, should themselves be known to us. 
Süta Gosvämé replied: 
Yes, I shall tell you at once the names of the priests and council members who served the king on that occasion. The Hotä priest at the sacrifice was the brähmaëa Caëòa-bhärgava, born in the Cyavana dynasty and known to have excelled among Vedic scholars. The senior and learned brähmaëa named Kautsärya Jaimini served as the Udgätä priest, Çärìgarava served as the Brahmä priest, and Bodha-piìgala as the Adhvarya priest. 
Vyäsadeva was present as an assembly member, as were his son and disciples. Other assembly members were Uddälaka, Çamaöhaka, Çveta-ketu, and Païcama. Also present in the assembly were great sages such as Asita, Devala, Närada, Parvata, Ätreya, the twice-born Kuëòa-jaöhara, and Kuöi-ghaöa. 
There were also Vätsya and Çruta-çravä the elder, distinguished for his austerity, scholarship, and conduct, along with Kahoòa, Deva-çarmä, Maudgalya, and Çama-saubhara. These and many other brähmaëas, strict of vow, were present as assembly members at the sacrifice led by Parikñit's son, Janamejaya. 
As the priests offered oblations at this great ritualistic sacrifice of snakes, horrible serpents who were frightening to all creatures fell into the irresistible flames. Streams of boiling fat and blood began to flow about, spreading the stark odor of death, as serpents incessantly burned in the tumultuous fire. There was the constant sound of shrieking snakes hovering in the air and cooking horribly in the insatiable fire. 
However, Takñaka, lord of the snakes, upon hearing that King Janmejaya had been initiated into a snake sacrifice, immediately went to the abode of Lord Indra. Knowing that he had sinned, and thoroughly frightened, the mighty serpent explained to Lord Indra all that had happened. Indra was very pleased with his humble submission and said, «O Takñaka, lord of the Nägas, there is absolutely no danger for you from this snake sacrifice. In the past I secured the blessings of 
Lord Brahmä for your sake, and therefore you need not fear. Let your terrible anxiety be gone.» 
Being thus reassured by Indra, the mighty snake rejoiced and dwelt happily in the abode of the lord. But the great serpent Väsuki was most unhappy, and he grieved deeply for the snakes who continued to plunge into the fire, for so few of his associates were left alive. A terrible depression overtook the powerful serpent, and with a trembling heart he spoke these words to his sister: 
«O blessed woman, my limbs are burning and I have no sense of where I am. I am sinking away in utter confusion and my mind is spinning. My vision is lost and my heart is bursting. Today I shall fall helplessly into that blazing fire. The sacrifice of Parikñit's son will go on until every one of us is dead. It is now clear that I am going to the abode of the lord of death. Sister, the time has now come for which I once gave you to the sage Jarat-käru. Oh, save us, and save all our family! O glorious lady of the serpents, our grandfather Lord Brahmä said in the past that your son, Ästéka, would put an end to this relentless sacrifice. Therefore, dear sister, tell your beloved child, who is so highly regarded by the elders as the greatest knower of the Vedas, that he must now save me and my dependents!» 
Çré Süta Gosvämé said: 
Thereupon the snake woman Jarat-käru called for her son, and remembering the instruction of the snake king, Väsuki, she told him, «Son, my brother gave me to your father with a mission, and its time has now come. You must do the needful!» 
Ästéka said: 
For what purpose did my uncle give you to my father? Explain it to me truthfully, and upon hearing of that grave mission I shall properly execute it. 
Çré Süta Gosvämé said: 
Jarat-käru, the sister of the serpent lord, yearned to help her relatives, and therefore with great determination she explained the situation to her son. 
Jarat-käru said: 
The goddess Kadrü is understood to be the mother of all the serpents, without exception, but she grew furious with her sons and cursed them. Listen and you will know why. 
«My dear children,» she said, «even though my very freedom is at stake, you refuse to enter the tail of the king of horses, Uccaiùçravä, and change it so I might win a wager with my sister Vinatä. Therefore I curse you that in the sacrifice of Janamejaya a celestial fire, whipped and driven by the god of wind, will consume you, and your bodies will dissolve back into the earth, water, fire, air, and ether from which they came. From there you will go to the land of the dead.» 
As she thus cursed her serpent sons, the grandfather of the universe, Lord Brahmä, approved her words and said, «So be it!» 
My dear son, Väsuki heard the statement of Lord Brahmä, and when the churning oföthe ocean had been accomplished, my brother approached the demigods for shelter. The gods had fulfilled their purpose, having won the heavenly nectar, and thus they were all kindly disposed toward my brother. Placing him at the front of their entourage, they all went to see Lord Brahmä. 
All the gods, along with Väsuki, beseeched the Grandsire for mercy. «May this curse not act!» they pleaded. Väsuki, king of the snakes, agonized by the fate of his relatives, begged the Grandfather, «O my lord, may this cruel curse spoken by our mother not act upon us!» 
Lord Brahmä replied: 
Saintly Jarat-käru will obtain a wife who will also be named Jarat-käru, and they will beget a brähmaëa son who will free the snakes from the curse. 
Jarat-käru continued: 
My dear godly son, hearing these words, Väsuki, lord of snakes, then presented me to your illustrious father, and before the fated time of calamity had come he begot you within my womb. Now the time has certainly arrived, and you must therefore save us from this danger. You must especially save my brother from that terrible fire. I was given to your wise father to set the serpents free, and our marriage must not be in vain. Do you agree, my son? 
Süta Gosvämé said: 
Thus adressed, Ästéka agreed to his mother's request. He then spoke to the grief-stricken Väsuki, as if to bring him back to life. 
«O Väsuki, O greatest of serpents, I shall deliver you from the curse. Most noble one, I tell you this in truth. Be settled in mind, dear uncle, for you have nothing to fear. You have always been kind to others, and I shall act in such a way that all good fortune will be yours. I have never spoken a lie, not even in jest, and I would hardly do so in a most serious matter such as this! My dear maternal uncle, I shall go today to that noble King Janamejaya, who has undergone religious initiation, and satisfy him with words that offer real blessings, so that the king's sacrifice will stop. 
«O wise and noble serpent king, have full trust in me, and your faith will never go in vain.» 
Väsuki replied: 
O Ästéka, I am trembling and my heart is about to shatter. I have no sense of where I am, for I am tortured by that all-powerful curse. 
Ästéka said: 
O serpent lord, there is absolutely no reason for you to feel such anxiety. I shall vanquish all danger from that blazing fire of sacrifice. That horrible conflagration is like the very fire of annihilation, with its all-powerful flames, yet I shall destroy it. Believe me, you have nothing to fear!» 
Süta Gosvämé said: 
Having removed the terrible anxiety raging like a fever in Väsuki's mind, and having placed that burden on his own shoulders, Ästéka, best of the twice-born, then went with great haste to the flourishing sacrifice of Janamejaya, determined to save the serpent race from utter extinction. Arriving there, Ästéka saw the fabulous sacrificial arena, filled with exalted assembly members who shone like the rays of the sun. In fact, the great sacrificial enterprise of Janamejaya was endowed with the best of personalities and the richest of paraphernalia. 
As the pure brähmaëa Ästéka attempted to gain entry, he was stopped by the gatekeepers. He then generously praised the sacrifice, begging to be granted entrance. 
Çré Ästéka said: 
At the confluence of the sacred rivers Gaìgä and Yamunä, in the holy city of Prayäga, the lord of the moon performed a sacrifice. Likewise, in that place the lord of the waters worshiped his Maker, as did the great progenitor. But your sacrifice, O best of the Bharata race, is as good as theirs. O son of Parikñit, may your sacrifice bring all good fortune to my loved ones. 
Lord Indra performed a hundred sacrifices, but now a single sacrifice has equaled them, for your sacrifice, O best of the Bharata race, is as good as Indra's hundred. O son of Parikñit, may your sacrifice bring all good fortune to my loved ones. 
Lord Yama performed sacrifices, as did Harimedhä and the pious king Rantideva. But your sacrifice, O best of the Bharata race, is equal to theirs. O son of Parikñit, may your sacrifice bring all good fortune to my loved ones. 
Kings like Gaya, Çaçabindu, and Vaiçravaëa all performed sacrifice. But yours, O best of the Bharata race, is as good as theirs. O son of Parikñit, may your sacrifice bring all good fortune to my loved ones. 
Någa, Ajaméòha, and Räma Himself are known to have performed sacrifices. And your sacrifice, O best of the Bharata race, is just like theirs. O son of Parikñit, may your sacrifice bring all good fortune to my loved ones. 
Even in heaven one hears of the sacrifice performed by the son of a god, King Yudhiñöhira, the scion of Ajaméòha. And yet your sacrifice, O best of the Bharata race, is like unto his. O son of Parikñit, may your sacrifice bring all good fortune to my loved ones. 
The greatest of sages, Çré Vyäsa, the son of Satyavaté, conducted a sacrifice wherein he personally performed the sacred functions. Even still, your sacrifice, O best of the Bharata race, is equal to his. O son of Parikñit, may your sacrifice bring all good fortune to my loved ones. 
As effulgent as fire or the sun, these priests sit around the sacrifice like the saints who attended Indra's own rites. For them, there is no knowledge yet to be known, and charity offered to them shall never go in vain. 
I am convinced that there is no priest in all the worlds equal to Çréla Vyäsa, who sits at this ceremony. Why, his disciples traverse the entire world, each expert in his own priestly duties. 
The mighty fire of such wondrous light, that great soul of golden seed, who in consuming everything leaves but a dark trail of ash and smoke, whose ignited flames whirl round to the right–that godly fire, the enjoyer of oblations, now consumes the offerings of your sacrifice. 
In this world of lost souls there is no monarch equal to you, none who cares for his people as you do. I am ever satisfied by your determination. You are the monarch and the king of virtue, the lord of death for the wicked! 
In this world you are like Indra himself, who stands with thunderbolt in hand, because you deliver the innocent creatures of the earth. O leader of men, we understand your glorious position, for in this world none but you can lead a sacrifice such as this. 
You are as sturdy and competent as the great rulers of yore–kings like Khaöväìga, Näbhäga, and Dilépa–and your prowess is equal to that of Yayäti and Mändhätä. Your potency is like the sun's, and in strict adherence to your vows you shine like the mighty Bhéñma. 
You carry yourself with the gravity of Välméki, and you control your anger like a second Vasiñöa. I consider you equal to Indra in your ability to rule, for your splendor shines like that of almighty Näräyaëa. 
In ascertaining justice and spiritual truth you are like Yama, the cosmic lord of justice, and all good qualities come to you as to Lord Kåñëa Himself. You are the abode of beauty and plenty, for all potent religious rites have their resting place in you. 
You are equal in strength to Dambhodbhava, and you expertly wield both hand weapons and missiles with the skill of Räma Himself. With the splendor of Aurva and Trita and the menacing countenance of Bhagératha, you can hardly even be gazed upon by your rivals. 
Süta Gosvämé said: 
Thus praised by young Ästéka, the king, the assembly members, the priests, the fire-god–indeed everyone–became wholly satisfied. King Janamejaya observed the reactions of all those present and then spoke as follows. 
King Janamejaya said: 
Though young, this boy speaks like a learned elder. Therefore, I accept him as a learned elder and not as a mere child. I wish to grant him a boon, and I ask the brähmaëas gathered here to extend me that privilege. 
The members of the saintly assembly replied: 
A brähmaëa, though a child, always deserves the respect of kings, especially when he is learned. Therefore you should grant this young sage all that he may desire, so that by his blessings Takñaka will come quickly into our fire. 
Süta Gosvämé said: 
The generous king was just about to tell Ästéka, «You may select a boon and I shall grant it,» when suddenly the Hotä priest, who was not pleased with the progress of the ceremony, spoke out and said, «We are duly performing the sacrifice, but Takñaka still has not come.» 
King Janamejaya replied to the priest: 
Takñaka is our mortal enemy, and all of you must endeavor with your combined might to bring my sacrifice to completion, so that Takñaka is swiftly thrown into the fire. 
The priests replied: 
O king, the sacred books clearly inform us, and the sacred fire confirms, that the snake ruler Takñaka is hiding in terror at the palace of Lord Indra. 
Süta Gosvämé said: 
The great soul and Puräëic scholar Lohitäkña already knew all these things, and now, being questioned by the king, he confirmed what the brähmaëas had said. 
«Having carefully studied the Puräëas, I tell you, O king, that Indra has given a boon to that snake. `Dwell here with me,' Indra has said to him. `Stay close to me, well concealed, and those flames will never burn you.'» 
Hearing this, the anointed king burned with grief, yet finding no relief and knowing that the time was at hand to consummate the rite, he encouragedöthe Hotä priest. The diligent priest then worshiped the holy fire with mantras. and thereupon Indra himself came. 
«Yes, let Indra come!» said the king. «And together with the serpent king, Takñaka, let him quickly plunge into the blazing fire!» 
The Hotä priest then intoned the words jambhasya hantä, making Lord Indra himself, the slayer of Jambha, an offering unto the fire; and then mighty Indra–he who had promised all security to the serpent–came toward the sacrificial fire. 
Befitting an exalted universal ruler, Indra had come in a heavenly airship, surrounded and praised by all the gods and followed by a train of menacing clouds. He led an entourage of powerful Vidyädharas and gorgeous pleasure maidens. But Takñaka, trembling with fear and unable to calm his panic-stricken mind, hid himself in Indra's outer garment. The furious Janamejaya, desiring the death of Takñaka. spoke these words to his expert priests: «O twice-born men, if the serpent Takñaka is indeed concealed under the custody of Indra, throw him and Indra together into this fire–now!» 
The priests replied: 
O king, the serpent Takñaka is quickly coming under your control. Listen and you will hear the piercing sound of the snake as he screams in terror, for Indra, who wields the thunderbolt, has released him. The snake has fallen from Indra's lap, for our mantras have broken his strength and pulled his body away. Now with his mind faint and ruined he comes through the sky toward us, helplessly twisting–that so-called lord of snakes–gasping hot and acrid breaths. 
O lord, O leader of kings, your sacrifice is proceeding properly. Therefore you should now grant a boon to that excellent brähmaëa. 
Janamejaya agreed and said: 
Though you appear like a young boy, your glory is great, and we shall offer you a suitable gift. Choose now that which you firmly desire within your heart, and I shall grant unto you that very thing, even if it is normally not to be given. 
Süta Gosvämé said: 
And so, at the very moment that Takñaka, the lord of snakes, was to fall into the sacrificial fire, Ästéka gave this command: «O Janamejaya, if you grant me a wish, then I wish that this sacrifice of yoursöcease. Let no more snakes fall into the fire!» 
O brähmaëa, when the king, son of Parikñit, was thus addressed, he was not at all pleased and spoke these words to Ästéka: «Gold, silver, cows, and bulls–anything else that pleases you, O lord, all that would I grant you as a boon–but please, brähmaëa, my sacrifice must not stop!» 
Ästéka replied: 
Neither gold, silver, cows, nor bulls do I ask of you, O king. Let this sacrifice of yours stop! That alone will benefit my mother's kin. 
Süta Gosvämé said: 
O son of Bhågu, hearing Ästéka's words, King Janamejaya, son of Parikñit. appealed again and again to the eloquent brähmaëa: «O best of the twice-born. I wish the best for you, but please choose another boon.» 
Yet the young sage refused to ask for anything else. The members of the sacrificial assembly were all learned Vedic scholars. andöthey all therefore joined together and said unto the king, «May the brähmaëa have his wish!» 
Çré Çaunaka said: 
O son of Romaharñaëa, I would like to hear all the names of those serpents who fell into the offering fire of the snake sacrifice. 
Süta Gosvämé replied: 
O best of Vedic scholars, many thousands, millions, and tens of millions of snakes fell into that fire. There were so many that they cannot even be counted. However, we do know from the småti 
scriptures the names of the most important of those snakes who were offered to the sacrificial fire. Please hear from me as I name them. 
First hear about the serpents in the dynasty of Väsuki. The chief ones were blue, red, and white, possessing huge and loathsome bodies full of deadly venom. Their names were Koöika, Mänasa, Pürëa, Saha, Paila, Halésaka, Picchila, Koëapa, Cakra, Koëavega, Prakälana, Hiraëyaväha, Çaraëa, Kakñaka, and Käladantaka. These serpents, born of the race of Väsuki, entered the fire. 
Now hear from me as I name the serpents born in the family of Takñaka: There were Pucchaëòaka, Maëòalaka, Piëòabhettä, Rabheëaka, Ucchikha, Surasa, Draìga, Balaheòa, Virohaëa, Çiléçalakara, Müka, Sukumära, Pravepana, Mudgara, Çaçaromä, Sumanä, and Vegavähana. These serpents, born of the race of Takñaka, entered 
the fire. 
Pärävata, Päriyätra, Päëòara, Hariëa, Kåça, Vihaìga, Çarabha, Moda, Pramoda, and Saàhatäìgada, all from the family of Airävata, also en-tered the fire. Now, O best of the twiceborn, hear of the snakes from the Kauravya dynasty. These were Aiëòila, Kuëòala, Muëòa, Veëé-skandha, Kumäraka, Bähuka, Çåìgavega, Dhürtaka, Päta, and Pätara. 
Now hear, as I recite their names, exactly which snakes from the family of Dhåtaräñöra perished therein. These serpents, O brähmaëa, were as swift as the wind and terribly poisonous. They were Çaìkukarëa, Piìgalaka, Kuöhäramukha, Mecaka, Pürëäìgada, Pürëamukha, Prahasa, Çakuni, Hari, Ämähaöha, Komaöhaka, Çvasana, Mänava, Vaöa, Bhairava, Muëòavedäìga, Piçäìga, Udrapäraga, Åñabha, Vegavän Piëòäraka, Mahähanu, Raktäìga, Sarvasäraìga, Samåddha, Päöa, and Räkñasa, Varähaka, Väraëaka, Sumitra, Citravedika, Paräçara, Taruëaka, Maëiskandha, and Äruëi. 
Thus I have described, O brähmaëa, the most important serpents, those who brought fame to their race. But there were so many who died in that sacrifice that I cannot name them all. Nor is it possible to enumerate all of their sons and grandsons and all the later generations who fell into the blazing fire. 
Some of those serpents had seven heads, and some had two heads, while still others had five. Those ghastly creatures, with poison like the fire of annihilation, were sacrificed by the hundreds of thousands. They had great bodies and great power, and when they raised themselves up they stood like the peaks of mountains. Indeed, some of them stretched to a length of eight miles, and others extended to a full sixteen miles. They could assume any form at will and go wherever they desired, and their terrible poison burned like blazing fire. But they burned to death in 
that great sacrifice, ruined by a mother's curse that was sanctioned by theöCreator. 
Süta Gosvämé said: 
We have heard from authorities that even as King Janamejaya, son of Parikñit, was encouraging the sage Ästéka with boons and benedictions, the young sage did something extraordinary. The snake Takñaka had fallen from Indra's hand, but he remained hovering in the sky, and seeing this, King Janamejaya was filled with anxiety. The learned priests continued to offer abundant oblations into the blazing fire, following the regular procedure, but still the terrified Takñaka would not fall into the fire. 
Çré Saunaka said: 
O Süta, can it be that those wise brähmaëas did not clearly recall the sacred hymns, and for that reason Takñaka did not fall into the fire? 
Süta Gosvämé said: 
Actually, as that most powerful snake, stunned and somewhat dazed, slipped from the hand of Indra, Ästéka turned to him and three times uttered the words «Stay there!» The snake, his heart trembling, stayed in midair like a man frozen in fear in the midst of a circle of bulls. Then, at the strong urging of the council members, the monarch decreed, «Let it be as Ästéka desires. This sacrifice must now come to an end! The snakes shall be saved from harm. Ästéka must be satisfied, and may the prophetic words of the master builder come true.» 
As the king thus granted Ästéka his boon, joyous applause and roars of approval spread in all directions, for the deadly ritual overseen by Janamejaya, son of Parikñit, had now come to an end. King Janamejaya himself, that worthy descendant of Bhärata, was pleased with this turn of events. [All the kings in his lineage were staunch devotees of the Supreme Lord, and he rightly understood that the sudden end of his sacrifice was an arrangement of Providence.] 
Following Vedic custom, the king awarded significant wealth to all the hundreds and thousands of priests and assembly members, and he further bestowed fine gifts upon all who had gathered for the sacrifice. That mighty king presented magnificent gifts to the builder and bard Lohitäkña, who had predicted at the outset that the sacrifice would be stopped by a brähmaëa. 
Having thus displayed genuine nobility, Janamejaya, strictly following the prescribed procedures, took the ritualistic avabhåtha bath, officially signaling the end of the sacrifice. The king's mind was thus at peace, and Ästéka too was satisfied, for he had performed his duty. The king greatly honored him and bid him farewell as he departed for his home. As the sage took his leave, the king graciously said to him, «You must come again and act as a council member in our great Açvamedhaö sacrifice.» 
«Indeed I shall!» said the sage Ästéka, pleasing the monarch, and he hurried off in a joyous mood, having carried out an incomparable task. Indeed, his heart was filled with joy, and he went straight to his mother and his uncle Väsuki, clasped their feet, and told them exactly what had transpired. 
Hearing his tale, all the serpents who were gathered there rejoiced, free at last from their terrible anxiety. So pleased were they with Ästéka that they said to him, «Please, ask of us anything you desire.» 
Again and again they all said to him, «What would you like, O learned one? Tell us and we shall immediately arrange it for you. We are so happy because we have all been saved. Dear child, please tell us what we may do for you.» 
Ästéka replied: 
My desire is that brähmaëas, humankind, and even other creatures of this world who, morning and evening, with calm and peaceful minds recite this righteous story of my deeds shall have nothing to fear from you snakes. 
Süta Gosvämé said: 
With satisfied minds, they said to their sister's son, «O most beloved nephew, we shall very gladly do all that you desire and so make your wish come true.» 
[Since that time, people pray:] «The renowned Ästéka was fathered by Jarat-käru in the womb of Jarat-käru. May that great sage, true to his word, protect me from snakes. That righteous sage, of fair complexion, gave the means to escape from the bites of deadly snakes, and one who remembers him during the day or night will have no fear of vipers.» à 
Süta Gosvämé said: 
That best of brähmaëas, having freed the snakes from the sacrifice designed to annihilate them, spent his days practicing virtue, and in due course of time he went to his destined end, leaving behind him worthy children and grandchildren. Thus have I narrated to you the actual story of Ästéka. It is a most righteous story because it causes goodness to flourish in the world. One who thus recites or hears from the beginning this glorious tale of the learned Ästéka will have nothing to fear from serpents. 
Çré Çaunaka said: 
O son of Romaharñaëa, you have thoroughly recited for me a glorious history, from the beginning of the Bhågu dynasty, and therefore, my son, you have pleased me very much. And so I shall inquire from you again, dear son of a scholar, regarding that excellent history composed by the great Vyäsa. Kindly continue that recitation. 
O Süta, we wish to hear from you all those stories and subject matters that were regularly discussed among the exalted council members during the intervals of that most lengthy snake sacrifice. Being an accomplished scholar, you are certainly expert in this field as well. 
Süta Gosvämé replied: 
During intervals in the sacrifice, the brähmaëas recited stories from the Vedas. The great Vyäsa, however, always recited the story of Mahäbhärata. 
Çré Çaunaka said: 
The Mahäbhärata has forever established the fame of the five sons of Päëòu. King Janamejaya inquired about them, and Kåñëa-dvaipäyana Vyäsa then regularly recited their story during the intervals of the sacrifice. Now I would like to hear, in the same systematic way, the glorious story of the Mahäbhärata. 
Çréla Vyäsa was a great sage, and his own activities were glorious. O son of a sage, O best of the saintly, relate to us now the magnificent history that arose from the oceanic mind of that powerful seer. 
Süta Gosvämé replied: 
Yes, I shall recite to you from its beginning the great and transcendent history known as Mahäbhärata, exactly as it was conceived by Kåñëa-dvaipäyana Vyäsa. O brähmaëa of excellent mind, I am enthusiatic to recount this history. May you delight in its narration!