The sage Jaratkaru, sustained only by air and forsaking all food, wandered the earth in the searing heat of his austerities. His body, dried and unmoving, radiated with the brilliance of blazing fire as he journeyed from place to place, his resolve unbroken. One day, during his wanderings, Jaratkaru beheld a sight that shook him deeply: his ancestors, the Pitrs, hung suspended in a vast pit, their feet pointing upward and their faces turned down in sorrow. Moved by compassion and confusion, Jaratkaru called out to them, “Who are you, hanging here in this pit with your faces downward?” He saw that they were suspended by a single stalk of vīraṇa grass, which was being steadily gnawed away by a hidden mouse dwelling within the pit. The grass threatened to snap at any moment, and all around them was darkness and despair. The ancestors replied, “We are the Yāyāvaras, steadfast sages bound by our vows. But because our lineage dwindles, O Brāhmaṇa, we have fallen to this state upon the earth. Of our line, only one remains—Jaratkaru—who, though unfortunate among the unfortunate, alone pursues severe austerity. Yet he refuses to marry or produce sons, deluded in his pursuit, and so we hang here, doomed by the extinction of our family.” They continued, “We are helpless, abandoned by our supposed protector, just as the wicked are left to their fate. For those whose lineage is broken in this world, happiness is lost; even the fruits of virtue and austerity cannot earn them a place in heaven. Tell us, noble one, who are you that grieves for us as if you were our own kin?” Jaratkaru, his heart heavy, answered, “Ancestors, fathers, and grandfathers—you are here before me. Tell me, what should I do? For I am Jaratkaru himself.” His ancestors implored him, “Beloved child, strive with all your might to continue our lineage—whether for your sake, for ours, or for the sake of righteousness. Know this: neither righteous deeds nor the most rigorous austerities can grant those without sons the state that fathers of sons attain. Therefore, make every effort to take a wife and beget progeny; by our command, my son, this is the highest good for us all.” Jaratkaru replied, “I will not marry for my own sake, nor for wealth or even for my life. But for your deliverance, I will take a wife. Yet I will do so only on this condition: if I find a maiden who bears my name, is freely given by her relatives, and lives as an ascetic, I will accept her as my wife. Otherwise, I shall not marry. Who would give a wife to one as poor as I? But if she is offered as alms, I will accept. For your sake, ancestors, I will strive for marriage under these terms alone. From such a union, a child will be born who will deliver you, and, having attained the eternal realms, you may rejoice.” Elsewhere, a great calamity loomed over the serpents. Their mother had cursed them: in the sacrifice of King Janamejaya, the Wind-charioteer would burn them all. To avert this doom, the noblest of serpents offered his own sister in marriage to the sage Jaratkaru, that virtuous and great-souled ascetic. Jaratkaru accepted her according to sacred rites, and from this union was born a son named Āstīka, endowed with a great mind. Āstīka grew into an ascetic of immense soul, accomplished in Vedic knowledge, impartial to all, and a remover of fear for both his father and mother. In time, King Janamejaya, a descendant of the Pāṇḍavas, began a mighty snake-sacrifice, intending to destroy the serpent race. As the sacrificial fires blazed, Āstīka, radiant with austerity, intervened and released the serpents from their mother’s curse. By his wisdom and compassion, he saved his brothers, maternal uncles, and many other serpents, as well as his ancestors, through both progeny and penance. By keeping various vows and diligent study, Āstīka freed himself from all debts and satisfied the gods with sacrifices and generous gifts. Having fulfilled his duties as a celibate and as a householder, and having lifted the heavy burden from his ancestors, steadfast in his vows, Jaratkaru attained heaven together with his forefathers, having gained Āstīka as a son and achieved supreme righteousness. Thus, Jaratkaru, after a long and arduous journey, ascended to heaven, his lineage restored and his ancestors delivered. This, O sage, is the true story of Āstīka. Tell me, O best of the Bhṛgus, what else would you wish to hear? Hearing this, the sages said, “O Sauti, please tell us again the story of the sage and poet Āstīka in greater detail, for our desire to listen is very great. You narrate so sweetly, your words smooth and delightful, like a father speaking to his children. Your own father always served us with attentive listening; tell the tale as he recounted it to you.” Sauti replied, “O long-lived ones, I shall tell you the story of Āstīka as I heard it from my father, exactly as he told it. Long ago, in the age of the gods, there were two wondrous and beautiful sisters, daughters of Prajāpati—Kadrū and Vinatā. Both became wives of the sage Kaśyapa, who was pleased with them and offered each a boon. Overjoyed, Kadrū asked for a thousand sons, all equal in splendor. Vinatā, on the other hand, wished for two sons, greater in strength, energy, beauty, and prowess than all the sons of Kadrū. Thus began the chain of events that would shape the destinies of gods, serpents, and sages alike.