Janamejaya, the king whose father had met a terrible end, slain by serpents, resolved to begin a great sacrifice to atone for his father’s fate. With a determined heart, he declared that he would destroy the serpents and thus bring peace to his father’s soul. As the sacred fire was kindled and blazed forth, the king gathered all his ministers and addressed them with clear command: “Let the foremost among you arrange the sacrificial materials, as prescribed. On the bank of the sacred Ganges, let a pure and holy ground be marked out with the guidance of the best Brahmins. Construct there a splendid pavilion, a hundred-pillared hall, well-ordered and magnificent. Prepare the altar for the sacrifice today.” He continued, “For this purpose, a vast serpent sacrifice must be undertaken. Takṣaka, the serpent king, shall be the chief victim, and the venerable sage Uttanka will preside as the chief priest. Quickly summon all the learned Brahmins, those who are wise and versed in the Vedas.” The ministers, wise and efficient, carried out the king’s instructions. They gathered all the necessary materials and set up the grand altar for the sacrifice. As the ritual began and offerings were made, Takṣaka, chief among serpents, was seized by fear. He fled, seeking refuge, and cried out to Indra, the king of the gods, “Save me!” Indra, seeing the terrified serpent, comforted him and seated him upon his own throne, granting him complete protection and assuring him, “Be fearless, O serpent.” Knowing Takṣaka had found sanctuary with Indra, the sage Uttanka, disturbed by this turn of events, invoked Indra and invited him to the sacrifice. At that moment, Takṣaka remembered a wandering sage from the Yāyāvara lineage. At this critical moment, a righteous and dharma-abiding boy named Āstīka, son of the sage Jaratkāru, arrived. The boy, wise beyond his years, praised King Janamejaya. The king, recognizing the boy’s learning and virtue, honored him and invited him to request any boon he desired. Āstīka, the blessed one, asked for a single thing: “Let this great sacrifice cease.” Bound by his word, the king was again entreated by the sage, and finally, at Āstīka’s repeated request, Janamejaya stopped the offering of serpents. After the sacrifice ended, Vaiśampāyana recited the great epic, the Bhārata, in detail. Yet, even after hearing this sacred history, Janamejaya found no peace. Troubled, he turned to Vyāsa and asked, “How can I find tranquility? My mind burns with longing. My unfortunate father was killed by the son of Parikṣit. O blessed one, for a kṣatriya, death in battle is best—on the field or at home, as destiny wills. But my father did not die in battle; he perished helplessly in the sky. O son of Satyavatī, tell me what I must do to bring peace to my father’s soul. How may he, who fell into such misfortune, quickly attain heaven?” Hearing these earnest words, Vyāsa, son of Satyavatī, spoke to the king before the assembled court: “Listen, O king, and I will tell you the ancient, wondrous, and secret Purāṇa called the Bhāgavata, filled with auspicious stories. I once taught it to my son Śuka; now, O king, I will recite to you this supreme secret. By hearing it, one attains the four aims of life: dharma, artha, kāma, and mokṣa. It brings constant auspiciousness and happiness, drawing from all the scriptures.” Janamejaya then asked, “Whose son is this Āstīka, and why did he come to halt my sacrifice? What was his purpose in saving the serpents, O revered one? Tell me this story in detail, and also recount the entire Purāṇa at length, O virtuous sage.” Vyāsa replied, “The sage Jaratkāru, a peaceful soul, did not enter the householder’s life. Once, while dwelling in the forest, he beheld his ancestors hanging in a pit. They called out to him, ‘O son of Kuru, take a wife for yourself; otherwise, we will not be satisfied. If you have a son of good conduct, we will be freed from sorrow and attain heaven.’ Jaratkāru replied, ‘When I find a wife who is my equal, whom I have sought and who is truly devoted, then I will enter household life. I speak the truth, O my forebears.’ Having spoken thus, the twice-born sage Jaratkāru departed for the holy places. At that very time, the serpents were cursed by their mother: ‘Let them fall into the fire!’ The wives of the sage Kaśyapa, Kadrū and Vinatā, saw the horse yoked to the Sun’s chariot and spoke together. Kadrū asked Vinatā, ‘O dear one, what is the color of this horse? Tell me the truth quickly.’ Vinatā replied, ‘This king of horses is white. What do you think, O auspicious one? You tell me its color, and let us make a wager.’ Kadrū said, ‘I believe this horse is black. Let us make a wager: the loser will become the other’s servant.’ Then, Kadrū instructed her serpent sons, who were obedient to her, ‘Make the horse appear as dark as possible on its body.’ Some of the serpents refused, and she cursed them, saying, ‘You will fall into the fire at Janamejaya’s sacrifice.’ The other serpents, wishing to please their mother, wrapped themselves around the horse’s tail, making it appear mottled. The two sisters went to see the horse. Observing its mottled appearance, Vinatā was greatly distressed. At that moment, her mighty son Garuḍa arrived. Seeing his mother’s sorrow, the devourer of serpents questioned her, ‘Mother, why are you so dejected? Though your son and the charioteer of the Sun are alive, you seem to be weeping. What is the use of life, O beautiful-eyed one, if you are so unhappy? What is the point of having a son if the mother is deeply grieved?