The story unfolds with a king who, failing to recognize that the sage before him was observing a vow of silence, became enraged and insulted the ascetic. In his anger, the king lifted a dead snake from the ground with the tip of his bow and placed it upon the shoulder of the pure-hearted sage, O best of Bharatas. The sage, wise and self-controlled, did not respond—he neither spoke nor indicated whether the act was right or wrong. He remained unmoved, bearing the snake on his shoulder, unangered. After this, the king returned to his city, leaving the sage behind with the serpent draped upon him. The sage had a son named Śṛṅgī, renowned for his immense energy, sharp power, and quickness to anger. The sage, devoted to Brahman, completed his worship, and with his permission, Śṛṅgī learned of the insult his father had suffered. Long ago, your father was insulted by the father of your friend, O tiger among kings, while the sage stood motionless, bearing the dead serpent. Though blameless, the great ascetic carried the snake on his shoulder. He was self-controlled, pure, steadfast in wondrous deeds, his soul radiant with austerity, and disciplined in all his limbs. His conduct was virtuous, his words auspicious, firmly established, free from greed, not petty-minded nor envious. Elderly and observing silence, he was a refuge for all beings—yet your father wronged him. Filled with anger, the radiant Śṛṅgī, though a boy with the brilliance of an elder, cursed your father. Quickly touching water and blazing with energy, he uttered these wrathful words: “He who placed a dead serpent on my innocent and venerable father—him shall the serpent Takṣaka, enraged, burn up with his fiery power. The venomous serpent, fierce in might, impelled by my words, will, after seven nights, display the power of my austerity—behold!” Having pronounced the curse, Śṛṅgī went to his father and reported what he had done. The sage, a tiger among ascetics, sent your father’s disciple, Gauramukha—a man of virtue and good qualities—to deliver the message. Gauramukha, composed in spirit, informed the king in detail: “You have been cursed by my son—be vigilant, O king! Takṣaka, O great king, will burn you with his fiery power.” Hearing these dreadful words, your father, Janamejaya, became vigilant and fearful of Takṣaka, the foremost of serpents. When the seventh day arrived, a brahmarṣi named Kāśyapa wished to go to the king. At that moment, the serpent lord Takṣaka encountered Kāśyapa and quickly addressed him: “Where are you hastening, and what do you intend to do?” Kāśyapa replied, “I am going to the king, Parikṣit, best of the Kurus, who is to be burned today by the serpent Takṣaka. I go quickly to relieve him of his fever at once; if I am present, the serpent will not be able to harm him.” Takṣaka challenged him: “Why do you wish to revive him after I have bitten him? I am Takṣaka, O Brahmin—behold my wondrous power!” With these words, Takṣaka bit a tree. Instantly, the tree was reduced to ashes. But Kāśyapa, with his knowledge, revived the tree. Seeing this, Takṣaka tempted Kāśyapa: “Tell me your desire.” Kāśyapa replied, “I am going there desiring wealth.” Takṣaka spoke gently: “Whatever wealth you seek from the king, take even more from me, O sinless one, and turn back.” Thus addressed, Kāśyapa, best of men, accepted the wealth from Takṣaka and turned back. When the Brahmin had departed, Takṣaka, by deception, approached your righteous father, the foremost of kings. Despite the king’s guards and vigilance, Takṣaka burned him with the fire of his poison. After this, O tiger among men, you were consecrated for victory. O best of kings, all this, as seen and heard, has been fully and terribly recounted to you by us. Hearing of this defeat of the king, O best of men, do now, for the sage Utanka, what is to be done next. At that very time, King Janamejaya, destroyer of foes, spoke these words to all his ministers: “Who told of that wondrous event that happened to the tree, which became a heap of ashes, astonishing to the world? That tree which Kāśyapa revived after Takṣaka had bitten it—surely, by mantras, the poison destroyed, nothing perishes from Kāśyapa.” The wicked-minded, base serpent thought to himself, “If the Brahmin whom I have bitten revives the king, Takṣaka, whose poison is united, will become an object of ridicule in the world.” Thus reflecting, he was satisfied with the Brahmin’s decision to accept wealth and turn back. Takṣaka then resolved, “By some means, I will inflict suffering upon him; but I wish to hear in detail what happened in the lonely forest.