Having spoken thus, that foremost of men, King Harishchandra, overcome by despair and grief, cried out again and again, “Fie, fie!” and collapsed to the ground, fainting away. Seeing her husband, the once-mighty king, lying senseless on the earth, his queen was seized by deep distress. With sorrow weighing heavily on her heart, she spoke in lamentation, “Alas, great king, what misfortune has befallen you, that you who once reclined on royal couches now lie fallen upon the bare ground?” She continued, her voice trembling, “He who possessed wealth surpassing tens of millions of cows, wealth untouched by Brahmins, this lord of the earth—my husband—now sleeps on the ground. What wrong have you committed, O king, that you, who were equal to Indra and Upendra, have been brought to such a pitiable state?” Having spoken thus, the beautiful queen, unable to bear the crushing weight of her husband’s sorrow, also fainted and fell to the earth. Their child, Rohitāśva, saw both his parents lying helpless on the ground. Tormented by hunger, the boy cried out in distress, “Father, father! Give me food! Mother, mother! Give me something to eat! My hunger is intense, my tongue is parched.” At that moment, the great sage Vishvamitra arrived. Seeing King Harishchandra lying unconscious, the sage sprinkled cool water upon him and called out, “Rise, rise, O king of kings! Give now the gift you promised.” He reminded the king, “For one who bears a debt, sorrow only grows day by day.” Revived by the water, Harishchandra opened his eyes and looked upon Vishvamitra, but, overwhelmed by his plight, he fainted once more. This stirred anger in the sage. Composing himself, Vishvamitra reassured the king and said, “If you value righteousness, then give me my due reward. By truth the sun shines, upon truth the earth stands firm; truth is the highest dharma, and even heaven is established upon truth. If a thousand horse sacrifices and truth were weighed on a scale, truth would surpass them all.” He continued, “But what use is there for me in conciliatory words? Why speak to one who is destitute, of wicked intent, cruel, and a speaker of falsehood? You are a king and possess authority. Hear me: if today you do not give me my reward, then when the sun sets behind the western mountain, I shall curse you—and it will surely come to pass.” Having thus spoken, the brahmin departed, leaving the king stricken with fear. Reduced to misery, stripped of wealth, and tormented by the harsh words of the sage, Harishchandra’s wife urged him, “Do as I say. Do not, consumed by the fire of a curse, meet your end.” Pressed again and again by his devoted wife, the king replied, “O gentle one, I will sell you, though it is pitiless. I will do what even the cruel-hearted would not. If I am able to utter such harsh words…” With his heart heavy and his throat and eyes choked with tears, the distressed king went to the city with his wife and spoke aloud to the people, “Ho, ho! All citizens, hear my words. Why do you ask who I am? I am cruel, inhuman. I am like a demon, hard-hearted, or even more sinful, for I have come to sell my beloved and yet do not give up my own life. If any of you has need of a maid, dearer to me than life, let him speak quickly, while I still have the strength to endure.” Then an old brahmin approached the king and said, “Give her to me as a maid; I am the buyer and will pay the price. I have a little wealth, and my beloved wife is delicate; she cannot perform household tasks, so give her to me. According to the ability, age, beauty, and character of your wife, this wealth is appropriate; accept it and give me the woman.” Hearing these words, King Harishchandra was torn by sorrow and could not reply. The brahmin firmly tied the money in the end of his garment, seized the queen by her hair, and dragged her away. Rohitāśva, their son, began to weep when he saw his mother being dragged off. The child, his hair dark as raven’s wings, clutched at her garment with his small hand. The queen pleaded, “Release me, priest, release me for a moment, so that I may see my child; O dear one, it will be difficult for me to see him again. Look at me, my child, as I am now being taken away to serve as a slave. Do not touch me, prince, for I am no longer to be touched by you.” Suddenly, the boy, seeing his mother being taken away, ran after her, crying “Mother!” with tears streaming from his eyes. Angered, the brahmin struck the boy with his foot, but even so, the child would not let go and kept crying for his mother. The queen, in her anguish, implored the brahmin, “Have mercy on me, lord; buy this child as well. Even if I am bought by you, I cannot fulfill my duties without him. Be gracious to me, who am so unfortunate; unite me with my child, as a cow is joined with her calf.” The brahmin replied, “Take this wealth and give me the boy. According to the scriptures on the duties of men and women, the price has been set—be it a hundred, a thousand, a hundred thousand, or even a crore.” The birds, witnessing these events, said, “So the wealth was tied up in an upper garment, and taking the boy along with his mother, he bound them together as one.” Seeing his wife and son being led away, King Harishchandra, overwhelmed with grief, lamented bitterly, sighing hotly again and again, his heart shattered by sorrow.