In the days following the curse, the king continued to reside in his palace, faithfully performing all his daily duties—worship, rituals, and the many obligations of royalty. Surrounded by his ministers, he conducted the affairs of state, ever mindful of the passing days. Among these ministers was a Brahmin named Kaśyapa, foremost among the wise, learned in sacred mantras and renowned for his knowledge. Word of the king’s curse soon reached Kaśyapa’s ears. This foremost of the twice-born, who harbored a desire for wealth, pondered deeply upon the matter. He resolved, “I shall go to the place where the king, afflicted by the Brahmin’s curse, now dwells.” With this intention, Kaśyapa set out from his home, journeying along the road toward the palace. On that very day, another journey began. Takṣaka, the mighty serpent king and supreme among serpents, learned of the curse upon Parīkṣit, the best of kings. Swiftly, Takṣaka departed his own abode, disguising himself in the form of an old Brahmin, and set out along the same road. As he traveled, he saw Kaśyapa approaching, also making his way to the king. Takṣaka, in his Brahmin guise, stopped Kaśyapa and inquired, “Where are you hastening, O learned one, and what purpose brings you here?” Kaśyapa replied, “Takṣaka intends to burn up King Parīkṣit. I am on my way to relieve the king from this suffering. I possess a powerful mantra that destroys poison; I will revive the king, for it is not yet his time to die.” Takṣaka then revealed himself, declaring, “O Brahmin, I am Takṣaka, the very serpent who will consume the king. Turn back, for you will not be able to heal anyone bitten by me.” But Kaśyapa stood firm: “Even if you bite the king, cursed though he is, I shall surely revive him by the power of my mantra—there can be no doubt.” Takṣaka challenged him, “If you truly have the power to revive the king after my bite, show me your mantra’s strength. Today, I will burn down this banyan tree with my venom. If you can restore it, I will believe you.” Kaśyapa accepted, saying, “Even if you bite or burn it, O mighty serpent, I will bring it back to life.” With that, Takṣaka struck the banyan tree, reducing it to ashes with his terrible poison. He then said, “Revive it now, O best of Brahmins.” Kaśyapa gathered the ashes, sprinkled them with water charged with his sacred mantras, and declared, “Behold the power of my mantra, O serpent! As you watch, I shall restore this banyan tree.” Miraculously, the banyan tree sprang back to life, as beautiful as before, and Takṣaka was astonished. Impressed, Takṣaka asked Kaśyapa, “Why do you labor so? Tell me your heart’s desire, and I shall grant it.” Kaśyapa replied honestly, “I sought wealth, and so I considered the king as my means. When I heard of the curse, I left my home to use my knowledge to save the king.” Takṣaka said, “O foremost of Brahmins, take as much wealth as you wish from the king—I will give it to you. Return to your home, for I am satisfied.” Hearing these words, Kaśyapa, wise and knowledgeable of the highest truth, began to reflect deeply: “If I accept wealth and return home, I will lose my good name in the world, tainted by greed. But if I save the king’s life, my fame will be unshakable, I will gain wealth, and I will earn merit for saving a life.” He remembered the examples of Raghu, Hariścandra, and Karṇa, who had all given away everything for the sake of fame. “How can I ignore a king suffering from poison’s fire?” he thought. “If I save the king, the people will rejoice; without a king, their destruction is certain. If the king dies, the sin of their destruction will be upon me, and I will be infamous for my greed.” Yet, as Kaśyapa meditated, his wisdom revealed to him that the king’s allotted time had come—death was inevitable. Understanding this, Kaśyapa accepted the wealth from Takṣaka and turned back toward his home. With Kaśyapa thus turned away, Takṣaka, intent on fulfilling the curse and slaying the king on the seventh day, hastened to the city of Nāgasāhvaya. There, he learned that the king was residing in a palace at the city’s edge, vigilantly guarded with jewels, mantras, medicines, and careful attendants. Takṣaka, anxious and mindful of the Brahmin’s curse, pondered how he might penetrate these defenses. “How can I deceive this king, ruined by the curse, deluded and a tormentor of Brahmins? None of the Pāṇḍava line ever acted as he did, placing a dead serpent upon a sage’s neck. Though he set up guards and entered his mansion, thinking himself secure, today he is free from anxiety, believing he has cheated death. How shall I burn him, as the Brahmin’s words command?” Takṣaka reflected further: “The deluded king does not know that death cannot be avoided. He enjoys himself, surrounded by guards, high atop his palace. But if death is truly ordained, even one of immeasurable power cannot escape it, no matter how great the effort or how many precautions are taken.