At various times, he would approach the supreme god, Brahmā, who sat for the welfare of all beings, seeking his favor. When Brahmā permitted him, he returned home, as his friend, who was playing and laughing, instructed him. Meanwhile, the sage’s son, Śṛṅgī, became exceedingly angry when he heard a jest from Kṛśa, the best among the twice-born, about his father. The words stung: “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.” Thus addressed, Śṛṅgī, radiant and filled with anger, was consumed by wrath upon hearing that his revered father was carrying a dead creature. He looked at the thin one and asked, “How is it, that my father, devoted to the welfare of all beings, always single-minded, pleasing Viṣṇu through austerity, subsisting on forest food, observing silence—such a radiant one—yet today 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 as he wandered in the great forest, he did not see the deer. Seeing your father, he questioned him, but your father did not reply. Standing motionless, afflicted by hunger and thirst, the king 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, remains there, steadfast in his vows; and the king set out for his own city, Hastināpura.” Hearing this, the sage’s son, with the corpse placed upon his father’s shoulder, his eyes reddened with anger, blazed as if consumed by wrath. Overcome, Śṛṅgī purified himself with water, his energy compelled by fury, and cursed the king: “That sinful king, who placed a dead serpent upon the shoulder of my aged and afflicted father—that wicked one, enraged beyond measure, shall be struck by Takṣaka, the lord of serpents, whose venom is fierce, urged on by the power of my words. After seven nights, he will be taken to the abode of Yama—the king who insulted the twice-born and brought disgrace upon the Kurus.” Having pronounced the curse in great anger, Śṛṅgī approached his father, who was seated in the cow-pen, bearing the dead serpent. Seeing his father with the serpent draped across his shoulder, Śṛṅgī became even more agitated. Out of sorrow, he shed tears and spoke: “Having heard of this outrage committed against you by that wicked one, out of anger I have cursed King Parikṣit, as he deserves, O father; that wretch of the Kuru line shall receive a terrible curse. On the seventh day, Takṣaka, the foremost of serpents, will strike down that sinner.” His father, the sage, spoke to him, who was thus filled with anger: “My son, what you have done does not please me; this is not the way of the righteous or ascetics. We dwell within the domain of that king. He has protected us justly; I do not approve of bringing harm upon him. One must always forgive the king who conducts himself properly towards people like us. Forgiveness must be shown, my son, for when righteousness is destroyed, it destroys in return—there is no doubt. If the king does not protect us, we would suffer greatly. We would not be able to practice righteousness freely, my son, if we were not protected by kings who uphold dharma. We are able to practice great righteousness, and by right, they receive a share of its merit; forgiveness must always be shown to a king who acts properly. Especially towards Parīkṣit, who, like his great-grandfather, protects us; just as a king guards his subjects, so must he protect them, O illustrious one. In a land without a king, faults always arise; the people become unruly, but the king restrains them with punishment. When there is fear of punishment, tranquility arises; then, one pursues righteousness and action without anxiety. Righteousness is established by the king, and from righteousness, heaven is established; all sacrificial rites of the king are established, and from sacrifice, the gods are established. From the gods, rain is produced; from rain, plants are known to arise; from plants, the constant welfare of humans is sustained. And the king, who is the sustainer of people and the upholder of sovereignty, is said by Manu to be equal to ten learned Brahmins. Therefore, coming here hungry, weary, and seeking game, and acting unknowingly, I believe this act was done as my vow. Why, out of childishness, have you rashly committed this wrongful act? O son, a king does not at all deserve a curse from us.” Thus, the sage rebuked his son, reminding him of the importance of forgiveness and the king’s vital role in upholding righteousness, even as the consequences of the curse began to unfold.