Kāśyapa, the venerable sage renowned for his wisdom, stood before Takṣaka, the king of serpents, and said, “O serpent king, behold today the power of my knowledge. Witness as I restore this tree, now reduced to ashes, back to life.” With these words, the learned Kāśyapa, foremost among the twice-born, applied his profound understanding and revived the tree. Before Takṣaka’s eyes, the heap of ashes gave rise to a tender sprout, which soon bore two leaves. From this, a branch emerged, then a leafy bough, and finally, the tree stood once more, flourishing with spreading limbs. Amazed at this wondrous feat, Takṣaka addressed Kāśyapa, saying, “O brāhmaṇa, truly, your power is marvelous. If you are able to neutralize my venom or that of any like me, then why, O possessor of great austerity, do you journey toward the king? Whatever reward you seek from that best of kings, I myself will grant it—even if it is difficult to obtain. The king, already stricken by a brāhmaṇa’s curse and with his life nearly spent, may not survive despite your efforts. Should you fail, your blazing fame, renowned throughout the three worlds, would fade like the sun’s rays at dusk.” Kāśyapa replied, “I go there for the sake of wealth, O serpent. Grant me what I seek, and I will turn back, taking my due payment.” Takṣaka answered, “Whatever wealth you desire from that king, I will give you even more. Turn back, O best of the twice-born.” Hearing these words, Kāśyapa, wise and energetic, considered the fate of the king. With his divine insight, Kāśyapa saw that the king of the Pāṇḍavas had but little life remaining. Accepting the wealth he desired from Takṣaka, the great sage turned back at once. Takṣaka, meanwhile, hastened to the city of Nāgasāhvaya. There he learned that the lord of the earth was being protected by powerful, divine spells that counteracted poison. Determined, Takṣaka thought, “I must deceive him—what means can there be?” Assuming the form of an ascetic, he sent forth his serpents with instructions: “Go forth, all of you, without hesitation. Approach the king and carry out your task with diligence.” The serpents, disguised as ascetics, did as Takṣaka commanded. They brought to the king darbha grass, water, and fruits, all of which the mighty king graciously accepted. When their task was done, the king said, “You may depart,” and the serpents, still in disguise, took their leave. The king then turned to his ministers and friends, saying, “Let all of you partake of these sweet fruits.” The fruits brought by the ascetics were distributed, and the king, along with his ministers, prepared to eat. Bound by ritual and the words of the sage, the king himself ate the very fruit in which a serpent was concealed. As he bit into it, a tiny worm appeared—short, with black eyes and copper-colored. The illustrious king, picking it up, said to his ministers, “The sun is setting; today I have no fear of poison.” But the sage, true to his word, declared, “This worm will bite me. Becoming Takṣaka by name, thus the prophecy will be fulfilled.” Prompted by fate, the ministers followed the king’s lead. The king, desiring death and losing consciousness, laughed and quickly placed the worm upon his neck. In that moment, as he laughed, Takṣaka, the lord of serpents, emerged from the fruit, wrapped himself around the king, and with a mighty roar, bit the ruler of the earth. Seeing their king thus ensnared in Takṣaka’s coils, the ministers, faces stricken with grief, wept in sorrow. Then, beholding the serpent, they fled in terror, watching as the wondrous Takṣaka, shining like a lotus, soared across the sky. Overwhelmed by grief, they saw him marking the very boundary of the heavens. The royal house, now surrounded by fire and blazing with the serpent’s poison, was abandoned in fear as all fled in every direction, and the house collapsed as if struck by lightning. When the king was overcome by Takṣaka’s power, the proper rites for the departed were performed by the pure Brahmins, the royal priest, and the king’s ministers. The people of the city gathered and proclaimed the king’s young son as their new ruler. Thus, Janamejaya, foremost among the Kurus and slayer of foes, was made king. Though still a child, Janamejaya, noble-minded and valiant, ruled the kingdom with his ministers and priests, just as his heroic great-grandfather had done before him. In time, the ministers approached Suvarnavarma, the king of Kāśī, seeking his daughter to strengthen the royal lineage. After due consideration, and in accordance with dharma, Suvarnavarma gave his beautiful daughter to Janamejaya. Having obtained her, Janamejaya rejoiced and set his mind on no other woman. With a joyful heart, the valiant king wandered among blooming lakes and forests, delighting in his good fortune, just as Pururavas had once rejoiced after winning Urvashi. Vapushtama, his virtuous and devoted wife, radiant in beauty and virtue, delighted the king as Sītā herself once delighted Rāma, the most beautiful among the women of the inner chambers, especially in times of happiness.