Enraged beyond measure, the young sage Śṛṅgi uttered a terrible curse: “That wicked one—King Parīkṣit—shall be struck down by Takṣaka, lord of serpents, whose venom is fierce and deadly, compelled by the force of my words. After seven nights, he shall be taken to the abode of Yama, for he has insulted the twice-born and brought disgrace upon the Kuru lineage.” Having pronounced this curse in his fury, Śṛṅgi approached his father, the sage Śamīka, who was seated in the cow-pen, the lifeless serpent still draped across his shoulders. Seeing his father in this state, Śṛṅgi’s anger only intensified. Overcome with sorrow, he shed tears and spoke to his father: “Father, having learned of the outrage committed against you by that unrighteous king, I was filled with wrath. I have cursed King Parīkṣit as he deserves. That wretch of the Kuru line shall suffer a terrible fate—on the seventh day, Takṣaka, foremost of serpents, will strike him down.” Śamīka, his father, listened to his son’s words and replied calmly, “My son, what you have done does not please me. This is not the way of the righteous or of 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 a king who acts properly towards people like us. Forgiveness, my son, is essential. When righteousness is destroyed, it destroys in return—there is no doubt. If the king does not protect us, we would suffer greatly. Without the king’s protection, we could not practice righteousness freely. Because of their guardianship, we are able to pursue great virtue, and by right, they receive a share of its merit. Forgiveness must always be shown to a king who upholds dharma.” Śamīka continued, “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; people become unruly, but the king restrains them with punishment. Fear of punishment brings tranquility, and then one can pursue righteousness and action without anxiety. Righteousness is established by the king, and from righteousness, heaven is established; all the king’s sacrificial rites are established, and from sacrifice, the gods are sustained. From the gods, rain is produced; from rain, plants arise; and from plants, the constant welfare of humans is maintained. The king, who sustains his people and upholds sovereignty, is said by Manu to be equal to ten learned Brahmins.” “Therefore, when he came here hungry, weary, and seeking game, and acted unknowingly, I believe it was as a result of 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.” Śamīka’s voice grew gentle but firm: “Whether this was a rash deed or a wrongful act, whether your words were pleasing or not, let them not be false. This will not happen otherwise, I assure 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, my son, and your truthfulness of speech; you have never spoken untruth before, and this too 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, even for a moment, if anger is unchecked. Therefore, I consider carefully what should be said to you, O best of the righteous, taking into account your sonship, your youth, and this rashness of yours.” “Therefore, be devoted to tranquility, subsist on forest fare, and act only after abandoning anger; thus you will not abandon righteousness. 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 worlds adjacent to that of Brahma. But I, having taken refuge in tranquility, will do today whatever is possible; I will send word to the king, my son.” With compassion for King Parīkṣit, Śamīka instructed his disciple, saying, “Go and inform the king of what has transpired. Tell him that my son, a child of immature understanding, has cursed him, unable to bear the insult he perceived. I myself could not bear this insult, O king, and so this curse has come to pass.” Thus, the virtuous sage, moved by compassion, sent his disciple, Gauramukha, who was virtuous and composed, after instructing him to inquire after the king’s well-being and report the matter at hand. Gauramukha, swift and dutiful, approached King Parīkṣit, the enhancer of the Kuru line, and entered the royal palace after being announced by the doorkeepers. Honored by the king, though weary, the twice-born Gauramukha recounted everything in full before the king and his ministers. He spoke: “O king, there is a sage named Śamīka in your realm, a man of supreme righteousness, self-restraint, peace, and great austerity. By you, a serpent was deprived of life while the sage was silent and absorbed in meditation. The snake, struck by the tip of your bow, hung on his shoulder as he maintained his silence. Though Śamīka forgave your deed, his son could not bear it. Therefore, O king, you have been cursed by him today, unknown to his father: ‘Takṣaka will be your death in seven nights.