Having ruled at Hastināpura for thirty-six years, the noble king resolved to retire from worldly life. With a steady mind, he installed Parīkṣit, the son of Uttarā, upon the throne, entrusting him with the kingdom. Then, accompanied by Draupadī and his brothers, the king departed for the golden mountain, seeking the peace of the forest after his long reign. Journeying northward, they reached the majestic Himalayas. There, the six sons of Pṛthā—those heroes of the Kuru line—peacefully relinquished their earthly bodies. Meanwhile, Parīkṣit, the royal sage, governed the people with righteousness, ensuring their well-being. Parīkṣit ruled tirelessly for sixty years. Over time, he developed a fondness for hunting and often ventured into the great forest. One day, while pursuing a wounded deer beneath the midday sun, Parīkṣit became parched, exhausted, and hungry. The oppressive heat weighed upon him. In his search for relief, he came upon a sage deep in meditation. Drawing near, the wise king respectfully asked the silent ascetic for water. But the sage, wholly absorbed in his meditation, gave no reply. Parīkṣit, tormented by thirst and his mind clouded by the influence of Kali, acted rashly. With the tip of his bow, he picked up a dead snake and, in a moment of frustration, draped it around the sage’s neck. Yet the great ascetic, unmoved and undisturbed even by this, remained silent and still. The king, his thirst unquenched and his mind unsettled, returned to his palace. Not far away, the sage’s son—born of a cow, mighty in ascetic power—was playing with friends near the forest. Some of the children said to him, “Your father has a dead snake around his neck.” Hearing these words, the young sage was seized by a terrible anger. He took water in his hand and, in his wrath, pronounced a curse: “He who placed the dead snake on my father’s neck—within seven nights, Takshaka shall bite that sinful man!” A disciple of the sage hurried to the king’s palace and informed Parīkṣit of the curse. When Parīkṣit learned that a brahmin’s son had pronounced his doom, he gathered his elder ministers and addressed them with gravity: “A brahmin’s curse has fallen upon me, surely out of enmity. What should I do, O wise ministers? The Vedic teachers say that death is inevitable, yet scripture also prescribes that one must always make an effort to avert calamity. Some say that by proper means—be it jewels, mantras, or potent herbs—one may achieve success. If such means are powerless, why did a sage once revive his wife, bitten by a snake, by giving her half his own life? Yet even then, when fate is strong, the wise should not place their trust in effort alone. Let us consider: is there anyone, in heaven or on earth, who can escape destiny?” He continued, “One may resign himself to fate and make no effort, or, by renouncing all, wander as a mendicant, accepting whatever fate brings. Yet, even a mendicant must make some effort to obtain food; how else could sustenance reach his mouth? Therefore, effort is necessary, and if it fails, then one must surrender to destiny.” The ministers, attentive to the king’s wisdom, asked, “Which sage revived his beloved by giving half his life? How did she die, O king? Please tell us in detail.” The king replied, “The wife of Bhrigu, renowned for her beauty, was named Puloma. Their son was the illustrious sage Cyavana. Cyavana’s daughter by Sharyati was the radiant Sukanya, and her son was the famous Pramati. Pramati’s beloved wife was Pratapi, and their son was Ruru, a supreme ascetic. “At that time, there lived another great sage, Sthulakesha, devoted to austerity and truth. Meanwhile, the celebrated apsaras Menaka, the delight of the three worlds, conceived a daughter by Vishvavasu. When the child was born, Menaka left her on the riverbank near Sthulakesha’s hermitage and departed. “Seeing the abandoned infant, the compassionate sage Sthulakesha took her in and raised her as his own, naming her Pramadvara. In due course, Pramadvara blossomed into a maiden of unsurpassed beauty, adorned with all auspicious marks. When Ruru beheld her, he was pierced by the arrows of love. “Tormented by longing, Ruru returned to his hermitage, his heart heavy. His father, seeing his son so downcast, inquired of him. Ruru confessed, ‘In the hermitage of Sthulakesha dwells a maiden named Pramadvara—may she become my wife.’ “Moved by his son’s plea, Pramati approached the sage Sthulakesha, humbly requesting the hand of the radiant maiden for Ruru. Sthulakesha agreed, promising to give her on an auspicious day, and preparations for the wedding began in the forest. “Both families, filled with joy, eagerly readied themselves for the union. But as the arrangements were underway, Pramadvara, delighting in the courtyard, accidentally stepped upon a sleeping serpent with her lovely foot…” Thus the story unfolded, each event following the other as decreed by fate and the actions of those involved.