On a fateful day, a son approached his father, his heart heavy with grief. “Father,” he said, “today your father lies dead, a snake draped across his shoulder, all because of King Parikṣit, who was roaming the forest in pursuit of the hunt. Tell me, Kṛśa, what wrong did my father commit against that wicked king? Reveal the truth to me, for you know the power of my austerity.” Kṛśa began to recount the events: “King Parikṣit, son of Abhimanyu, went hunting alone. He had struck a deer with a swift arrow and chased after it through the vast forest. Yet, wandering there, the king lost sight of the deer. Instead, he came upon your father, the sage, and questioned him about the deer’s whereabouts. Your father, however, remained silent, keeping his vow, and did not reply. The king, afflicted by hunger and thirst, repeatedly asked your father about the lost deer, but the sage, steadfast in his vow of silence, gave no answer. Frustrated, the king placed a dead snake upon your father’s shoulder using the tip of his bow. Your father remained there, unmoved and faithful to his vows, while King Parikṣit departed for his city, Hastināpura.” Hearing this account, the sage’s son, Śṛṅgi, was overcome with rage. His eyes blazed red with anger, and his wrath seemed to consume him. In his fury, he purified himself with water and uttered a terrible curse against 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, compelled 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 this curse in great anger, Śṛṅgi went to his father, who was seated in the cow-pen, the dead serpent still draped across his shoulder. Seeing his father in such a state, Śṛṅgi’s anger only intensified. Out of sorrow, he shed tears and spoke, “Father, I have heard of the outrage committed against you by that wicked one. Out of anger, I have cursed King Parikṣit, as he deserves. That wretch of the Kuru line shall receive a terrible fate. On the seventh day, Takṣaka, foremost of serpents, will strike down that sinner.” His father, the sage, addressed him with calm wisdom. “My son, what you have done does not please me; this is not the way of the righteous or ascetics. We live under the protection of that king. He has treated us justly, and I do not approve of bringing harm upon him. One must always forgive a 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 Parikṣit, 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; 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 comes rain; from rain, plants arise; from plants, the constant welfare of humans is sustained. 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, when the king came here hungry, weary, and seeking game, and acted unknowingly, I believe this act was done as part of my vow. Why, out of childishness, have you rashly committed this wrongful act? O son, a king does not deserve a curse from us.” The sage continued, “Whether this was a rash deed, or a wrongful act, or whether your words were pleasing or unpleasing, let them not be false. This will not happen otherwise, I tell you as your father; I do not speak falsely, not even among my own, so how could I utter a curse? I know your formidable power, O son, and your truthfulness in speech; you have never spoken untruth before, and this will not be false. A son, even when grown, must always be addressed by his father, so that he may be endowed with virtues and attain great fame. How much more so when you are still a child, always devoted to austerity; for in the powerful, anger grows exceedingly. These worlds would perish, and there would be no remedy for a moment; therefore, I consider carefully what should be said to you, O best of the righteous, considering your sonship, childhood, and this rashness of yours. Therefore, be devoted to tranquility, subsist on forest fare, and act after abandoning this anger; thus you will not abandon righteousness. For anger destroys the righteousness painstakingly gathered by ascetics; and for those devoid of righteousness, the desired goal is not attained. Indeed, tranquility alone brings success to ascetics and the forgiving; this world belongs to the forgiving, and so does the next. Therefore, always practice forgiveness, self-controlled in nature; by forgiveness, you will attain the worlds adjacent to that of Brahma.” Thus, the sage gently guided his son away from anger and towards the path of forgiveness and righteousness, reminding him of the true power of tranquility and the importance of dharma.