Hearing the tale of his father’s death, King Janamejaya was consumed by a burning question: “Tell me, how should I act toward Takshaka? Do you know by what means the serpent was responsible?” His heart smoldered with the desire for vengeance. “I wish to cast Takshaka, along with his kin, into blazing fire—just as my father was once consumed by the venomous flames of that serpent, so too do I wish to burn that wicked being.” In response, a learned sage addressed the king with reverence: “O King, there exists a great sacrificial rite, created by the gods for your sake, known in the Purāṇas as the ‘universal sacrifice.’ According to ancient tradition, it is said that you alone among men are qualified to perform this sacrifice; this rite is destined for you.” Hearing these words, Janamejaya’s resolve hardened. He believed Takshaka would indeed be consumed, drawn into the mouth of the sacrificial fire. Calling upon the Brahmins, the king—well-versed in sacred mantras—declared, “I will undertake this sacrifice. Let all the necessary materials be gathered for me.” The officiating priests, learned in scripture, then measured out the area for the great sacrifice, preparing the sacred ground. Scholars of the Vedas, accomplished in wisdom and prosperity, assembled there, joined by groups of Brahmins. Abundant in wealth and grain, and well-served by officiating priests, they constructed the sacrificial altar according to the prescribed rites. When all was ready, they initiated King Janamejaya into the sacred serpent-sacrifice. Thus began the first act of the great rite. Yet, as preparations continued, a powerful omen arose to hinder the sacrifice. As the ground was being prepared, a mysterious voice was heard. The master builder, wise and skilled in architecture, spoke then, joined by the architect, the charioteer, and the reciter of ancient lore: “In this place and at this time, since the measuring has begun with a Brahmin as the cause, this sacrifice will not be completed.” Upon hearing this, the king, before his formal initiation, instructed his steward, “Let no one unknown to me enter here.” The work of the serpent-sacrifice then commenced in earnest. The priests performed their duties according to the sacred rites. Clad in black garments, their eyes reddened by smoke, they offered oblations with mantras into the kindled fire. Their chants shook the minds of all serpents, summoning every snake into the gaping mouth of the fire. Drawn by the power of the sacrifice, the serpents came together, writhing in distress and calling out to one another as they were pulled into the blazing flames. They quivered, breathed heavily, and coiled around each other; their tails and heads fiercely extended toward the radiant Bhanu, the sun. White, black, blue, old, and young—making various cries—they rushed into the fire. The measure of Gokarna is a krosha in length, and so, ceaselessly and with great speed, the serpents fell into the fire. Thus, hundreds of thousands, tens of millions, even crores of serpents—helpless and destroyed—perished there. Some were as large as horses, others like elephants; intoxicated as mad elephants, with great bodies and immense strength. Many were tall and short, of various colors, full of venom; fierce as iron clubs, powerful snakes fell into the fire, compelled by their mothers’ words and the force of the king’s command. Curious about the details of this immense sacrifice, a sage inquired, “At the snake sacrifice of the wise Pandava king Janamejaya, who were the officiating priests, O supreme sages? Who were the members present at that dreadful sacrifice, which caused the birth of poison and great fear among the serpents? O father, you ought to describe everything in detail—who were the Sutas, knowledgeable in the procedures of the snake sacrifice?” The sage replied, “Now, I will tell you the names of the wise men who served as officiating priests and members at that time for the king. The Hotṛ was the Brahmana Chandabhargava, renowned in the lineage of Cyavana, the foremost among those versed in the Vedas. The Udgātṛ was the aged and learned Brahmana Kautsa, and Jaimini; Brahma was Shārngarava, and the Adhvaryu was Pingala. Vyasa himself was present, accompanied by his sons and disciples—Uddalaka, Pramataka, Shvetaketu, and Pingala. Also present were Asita, Devala, Narada, Parvata, Atreya, Kumda-Jathara, and the Brahmana Kalaghat. Vatsya, the aged Shrutashrava, devoted to recitation and study; Kohala, Devasharma, Maudgalya, and Samasaurabha. These and many other accomplished Brahmanas, learned in the Vedas, were members at the sacrifice of Parikshit’s son.” As the priests offered oblations at the great snake sacrifice, the serpents fell in droves—terrible to behold, bringing fear to all living beings. Streams carrying the fat and marrow of the serpents flowed forth; a tumultuous scent filled the air as they burned day and night. As the serpents fell, even those stationed in the sky, an unceasing sound arose, and they were fiercely consumed by the flames. But Takshaka, the lord of serpents, upon hearing that King Janamejaya had undertaken the sacrifice, fled to the abode of Indra. There, the best of serpents, fearful and aware of his transgression, sought refuge with the king of the gods, recounting all that had transpired. Indra, greatly pleased, assured him, “Here, Takshaka, you have no fear, O lord of serpents, at any time from that serpent-sacrifice.” Thus, the great serpent-sacrifice unfolded, drawing in all serpents save for Takshaka, who found sanctuary in Indra’s protection.