Having listened to all that was previously spoken, the sages gathered wished to know how Āstīka came to be born. Responding to this earnest request, Sauti began to recount the tale as handed down by tradition. Vāsuki, the mighty serpent king, summoned all the serpents together. With great care, he raised his sister and presented her to the sage Jaratkāru, hoping to fulfill the prophecy and secure the welfare of the serpent race. Yet, despite Vāsuki’s efforts, Jaratkāru, steadfast in his vows and wholly devoted to austerities, was not inclined to take a wife. His mind, fixed on ascetic practice, was learned in the scriptures, fearless, and self-controlled. He wandered across the earth, absorbed in his spiritual pursuits, and did not even entertain the thought of marriage. Meanwhile, at another time, there arose a king named Parikṣit, descendant of the Kauravas. Like his illustrious ancestor Pāṇḍu, famed for his prowess in archery and fondness for hunting, Parikṣit too gained renown throughout the world. He would roam the earth, striking deer, boars, tigers, buffaloes, and other wild creatures. One day, King Parikṣit struck a deer with a barbless arrow and, bow in hand, pursued it deep into the dense forest. Just as the revered Rudra once pursued the sacrificial beast in heaven, searching all around with his bow, so did Parikṣit hunt the elusive deer. Yet, despite being struck, the deer did not die; instead, its form swiftly moved toward heaven. The deer, escaping from King Parikṣit, carried his bow far away, and thus led the king deeper into the forest. Weary and afflicted by thirst, Parikṣit came upon a sage seated among grazing cows, with calves suckling at their mothers. The sage was drinking the froth from their milk, and as the king, steadfast in his vows, rushed toward him, he raised his bow and questioned the sage, his hunger and fatigue evident. “O Brāhmaṇa,” Parikṣit called, “I am King Parikṣit, son of Abhimanyu. A deer struck by me has escaped; perhaps you have seen it?” But the sage, observing a vow of silence, did not reply. Angered by the sage’s silence, the king placed a dead snake upon the sage’s shoulder, lifting it with the tip of his bow, and watched him. The sage neither spoke auspicious nor inauspicious words. The king, his anger released and disturbed by his own actions, departed for the city, while the sage remained unmoved, continuing his practice. Patient by nature, the great sage did not retaliate against the king, who was devoted to his own duty, even though he had been insulted. Indeed, Parikṣit, the tiger among kings, did not recognize the sage’s devotion to righteousness, and thus insulted him. The sage’s son, Śṛṅgī, was young but fierce in energy and great in austerity. He possessed immense wrath, was difficult to approach, and steadfast in his vows. At various times, Śṛṅgī would approach the supreme god, Brahmā, who was seated for the welfare of all beings, seeking his favor. Having been permitted by Brahmā, Śṛṅgī returned home, as instructed by his friend, who was playing and laughing nearby. Upon returning, Śṛṅgī was informed by Kṛśa, the best of the twice-born, in a jest about his father. Kṛśa said, “Your father, powerful and ascetic, carries a corpse on his shoulder; do not be proud, Śṛṅgī. Do not utter any words among the sage’s sons, among those accomplished, learned in Brahman, and ascetic like us. Where is your manliness, and where are such words born of arrogance, seeing your father carrying a corpse? And your father's act is not fitting for himself, O best among sages; by which I am greatly distressed.” Hearing these words, Śṛṅgī, radiant and filled with anger, was consumed by wrath upon learning that his revered father bore a dead thing. He looked at Kṛśa and asked, “How is it, father, that one devoted to the welfare of all beings—always single-minded, pleasing Viṣṇu through austerity, subsisting on forest food, always observing silence—such a radiant one, yet today he bears a dead thing?” Kṛśa replied, “Father, today your father is dead, with a snake on his shoulder, because of King Parikṣit, who was roaming in the hunt. What has my father done to that wicked king that was unfavorable? Tell me, Kṛśa, the truth; behold the power of my austerity.” Kṛśa explained, “That king, Parikṣit, son of Abhimanyu, went hunting; he pursued a deer alone, having struck it with a swift arrow. But the king did not see the deer as he wandered in that great forest; seeing your father, he questioned him, though he did not reply. Standing motionless, afflicted by hunger and thirst, he repeatedly asked your father about the lost deer. But he, observing the vow of silence, did not answer him; so the king placed a snake on his shoulder with the tip of his bow. Your father, Śṛṅgī, also remains there, steadfast in his vows; and that king, too, set out for his own city, Hastināpura.” Hearing this, Śṛṅgī, with the corpse upon his father’s shoulder, his eyes reddened with anger, blazed as if consumed by wrath.