Sauti said:
Then Vasuki, foremost among serpents,
Hearing the curse that dood their kind,
Reflected long with heavy heart
How best that fate might be undone.
To Airavata and the sinless host of snakes,
He spake these solemn words:
Vasuki said:
"O brothers, you know the doom upon us.
Our mother’s words, spoken before
The Infinite, Immutable, and True—
Strike terror into my heart.
No curse once uttered in the presence
Of the Eternal can be in vain.
Surely our destruction draws nigh.
Yet, if fate can be forestalled,
Let us not sit idle in despair.
Wise ones say, there is a redy for every curse—
Save for those uttered by one’s own mother.
But still, shall we not try?
Let us now, as once did the gods
When Agni vanished into a cave,
Consult together and devise a way—
That King Janajaya’s wrath may pass,
And we be spared the fire of sacrifice.
O ye wise and discerning, speak!
Let our counsel be swift,
For the hours move with sharp teeth,
And delay may cost us all."
Sauti continued:
Then the serpents, conferring amongst themselves with anxious hearts, resolved upon a subtle course. Their hope lay not in open defiance, but in clever counsel that might turn the tide of fate.
They said:
“Let us give him such advice
That the sacrifice may be obstructed.
The king—foremost among the wise,
A man of discernnt and virtue—
Will surely turn to us,
Believing our words to be of sterling worth.
And when he does,
We shall say:
‘This sacrifice must not be.’
We shall speak of evil in this world and the next,
Of unseen dangers and cosmic unrest.
Thus shall we shroud the path ahead in dread,
And take great care
That the sacrifice may not take place.”
Sauti continued:
Thus, having resolved to dissuade the king by argunt, the serpents also laid down a more desperate sche—one born of fear, and fire, and the shadow of death.
They said:
“Or let one of us draw near
And strike with fang
The priest who, faithful and wise,
Seeks only the monarch's good—
He who knows the sacred rites,
Chosen to lead the sacrifice.
Let him die!
For if he falls, the sacrifice shall fail.
And more—
Let us bite all those
Whose lips know the mantras,
Whose hands perform the rites,
Whose minds are trained in the sacred texts.
Let none remain
Who can complete the king’s terrible vow.
By this ans,
We shall obstruct the fire
That seeks to consu us.”
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Sauti continued:
The council of serpents grew tumultuous, their fear of extinction driving them to hatch many desperate plots. But even amidst their fury, so voices spoke of dharma and restraint.
Then spoke the serpents more virtuous and wise:
“O brothers, this counsel turns to darkness.
This path reeks of adharma.
Brahmanas must not be slain.
Even in peril, let the righteous path be our guide.
For unrighteousness, though swift and strong,
Shall one day consu the very world it builds.”
Another group said:
“Let us beco clouds—
Thunderous, luminous with lightning!
Let our showers quench the sacrificial fire,
And drown the rite in storm.”
So whispered:
“By stealth, let us co at night—
And steal the Soma vessels.
Without the Soma, the rite shall fall.”
Others, bolder, said:
“Let us strike terror—
Hundreds of us bite the priests,
The onlookers, the king’s n,
Till panic halts the sacrifice.”
And there were those even more reckless:
“Let us defile the sacred offerings,
With venom, urine, and dung.
Let filth and fear undo the rite.”
So spoke with guile:
“Let us take the garb of rittviks—
The king’s own priests.
We shall demand our dakshina first,
And withhold the sacrifice if it displeases us.”
And others, cold and vengeful, declared:
“Let us seize the king
As he sports in water,
Carry him off,
Chain him in coils—
Let no fire be lit in his na.”
Yet others, with poison on their tongues, said:
“Let us strike the king himself.
One bite—
And all this ends.
With his death,
The root of evil shall be torn out.”
Sauti said:
Thus, their words spent, their proposals laid, the serpents fell silent and fixed their eyes on Vasuki, the king of snakes, waiting for his final word.
Sauti said:
Then Vasuki, the wise serpent-king, pondered long in silence. His eyes heavy with worry, he spoke with the weight of a thousand lives resting on his hooded brow.
And Vasuki said:
“O snakes, kin of mine—
Your counsel swirls like a storm,
But not one wind carries peace.
None of your words, fierce and bitter,
Lead toward the path of dharma.
What then shall I do for your good?”
“O children of Kadru,
Only the grace of our father, the mighty Kashyapa,
May yet cool the fire of this curse.
To him we must turn.”
“Alas! My heart sees no clear road.
Among all your voices, none ring true.
Yet if I act, be it right or ruinous,
The burden, the glory, or the bla
Shall rest with alone.”
Sauti said:
Then Elāpatra, the wise and gentle-hearted among serpents, rose with calm majesty amid the tumult of fear and desperation. His voice rang with clarity, the voice of one who had listened in silence to fate’s whispers from the very lap of destiny.
Elāpatra said:
“This fire that threatens to consu us all—
This sacrifice by Janajaya—
Is not born of mortal will alone.
It is fate, O serpents,
Rooted deep in what has already been spoken.”
“I lay upon our mother’s lap,
Small, trembling, listening.
And I heard then the sorrowful voice of the gods
Raised in protest to the Grandsire—
‘How could she curse her own sons so, in your presence,
O Lord of Lords?’”
“And Brahmā, calm and omniscient, replied—
‘Because the snakes had grown many,
Terrible in form, venomous and wild.
For the good of all beings, I did not stop her.
But hear this too:
Not all shall perish.
Only the wicked, the cruel, the unrestrained.
Those who are virtuous and harmless shall be spared.’”
“And he proclaid—
‘A sage shall be born in the line of the Yayavaras,
By na Jaratkaru,
And from him, a son:
Āstika, bright as the sacred fla,
Wise, and firm in dharma.
He shall co at the appointed hour,
And he shall stop the snake sacrifice.’”
Sauti continued:
Thus spoke Elāpatra, bearer of hope,
And silence fell among the serpent host,
As if fate itself had paused to listen.
For in the womb of doom had been sown a sliver of deliverance.
Sauti continued:
And Brahmā, the Grandsire of all, thus answered the sorrowing gods with asured grace:
“He, the brahmana of austere vows—Jaratkāru—
Shall take as wife a maiden of the sa na as his own.
A child shall be born of that union,
A sage—Āstika—radiant with tapas,
And in ti, he shall halt the flas of destruction.”
Then turning to the gods, he declared:
“This maiden you seek is already born—
She is Jaratkāru, sister of Vāsuki,
Endowed with virtue and quietude,
A vessel for destiny’s boon.”
“Give her, O Vāsuki, freely as alms—
To that sa Jaratkāru,
When he wanders the earth in search of a bride.
In that sacred union lies your salvation.”
And the gods, bowing in reverence, replied:
“Be it so.”
And the Lord of All Creation, having spoken the words that would one day stay the fire of wrath, returned to his celestial abode.
Sauti concluded:
Thus was the path of redemption foretold and set.
A cursed race awaited its redeer,
And fate, ever mysterious, began moving silently in fulfillnt.
Sauti continued:
O best of the twice-born, when the serpents heard Elāpatra’s prophetic words, hope swelled in their hearts. In chorus, they exclaid:
“Well said! Well said! Blessed be the wise Elāpatra!”
And Vāsuki, filled with renewed purpose, began to tend his sister with the utmost care and reverence. That maiden, nad Jaratkāru, was raised in sanctity, as if she herself were a mantra ant to free the serpents from annihilation.
Ti passed.
And it ca to be that the gods and asuras, united by common yearning, churned the Ocean of Varuṇa, seeking Amṛta, the nectar of immortality. Mighty Vāsuki, foremost among serpents, was chosen as the churning rope—his sinewed body pulled by divine and demonic hands alike.
And when the churning ended, the gods, moved by the trials borne by Vāsuki, approached Brahmā, the grandsire of all creation. They said:
“O Lord of Lords, hear us.
The noble Vāsuki, who helped us attain Amṛta,
Now burns from within,
Tornted by the curse of his mother.
Out of compassion, free him from his sorrow,
For he is ever our ally and well-wisher.”
Moved by their plea and the rit of Vāsuki's sacrifice, the gods awaited Brahmā’s reply, hoping that compassion would uncoil the fate still wrapped tightly around the serpent king.
Sauti said:
Then the Grandsire, Brahmā, supre among the immortals, replied:
"O ye shining gods,
What you have uttered I have already pondered in the seat of my mind.
Let Vasuki, the king of snakes, now act as was foretold by Elāpatra.
The ti has co. The wheel of fate has turned."
"Only the wicked among the serpents shall perish—
Those who are innocent and virtuous shall be spared.
This is the decree of Dharma."
He added:
"The sage Jaratkāru has already been born.
Even now, he dwells in severe austerities,
Bound by vows, clothed in penance,
Seeking release for his ancestors."
"Let Vasuki, at the appointed ti,
Offer his sister Jaratkāru to him as alms.
Thus shall the word of Elāpatra be fulfilled.
This prophecy is true—it shall not fail."
Thus, the gods rejoiced, for the thread of fate now knotted itself into a hope—Astika would be born, and the flas of the snake sacrifice, once fated to consu them all, would soon et their destined extinguisher.
Sauti continued:
Then Vasuki, King of the Serpents, scorched by the cruel curse of his mother and stirred by the words of Brahmā, resolved to fulfill the ancient prophecy. Desiring to bestow his sister Jaratkāru upon the sage of the sa na, he summoned the elders and guardians of his kin.
To them he issued this solemn command:
"Let every eye be turned to the earth,
Let every ear be open to the winds.
Watch with care, O vigilant serpents,
For the sage Jaratkāru wanders the world.
The wheel of our race spins in peril;
Only he can stay its ruinous course."
"When that exalted Rishi seeks a wife,
Whispers his wish even to the sky,
Fly to at once—delay not.
For in his marriage, our salvation lies."
Thus instructed, the serpents dispersed, unseen and unheard, into forest, river, and mountain—waiting for that one word from the sage that would ignite hope for the serpent kind.
“O Brahmanas, hear the reason why the illustrious sage ca to be known as Jaratkāru upon the earth. The word Jara ans ‘decay’ or ‘wasting away,’ and Kāru ans ‘vast’ or ‘imnse.’
This Rishi once had a body vast and powerful—
But he wore it down through fierce austerities.
With each penance, with each renunciation,
His form wasted, reduced by his own will.
Thus was he nad Jaratkāru—he who has wasted the vast.
And likewise, O listeners of sacred tales,
The sister of Vasuki, raised in the sa ideal,
Born to bring salvation to the race of serpents,
Was also nad Jaratkāru,
For she too was destined to bear austerity’s weight—
**Not of body, but of destiny.”
But though the snakes watched and waited,
Ti passed in silence.
The great Muni, imrsed in austere vows,
Wandered fearlessly across the world,
Unmoved by pleasure or desire.
With vital seed contained,
With mind purified by sacred knowledge,
He sought no companionship—no wife.
Engaged wholly in penance,
His senses subdued, his heart steady,
The sage seed beyond all worldly need.”
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