For one burdened by debt, sorrow only grows with each passing day. Such was the plight of King Harishchandra, who, weakened and overwhelmed, was revived by the touch of cold water. As he regained his senses, he looked upon the sage Vishvamitra. But the weight of his troubles was so great that he fainted once more, which angered the sage. Yet, Vishvamitra, the foremost among the twice-born, reassured the king and spoke firmly: “If you value righteousness, give me the reward that is due to me.” He reminded the king of the power of truth, saying, “By truth the sun shines; upon truth the earth stands firm. Truth is the highest dharma, and heaven itself is founded upon truth. If a thousand horse sacrifices were weighed against truth, truth would outweigh them all.” But then, with rising impatience, the sage declared, “What use is there in conciliatory words? Why speak to one who is destitute, wicked in intent, cruel, and a speaker of falsehood? You are king and hold authority—listen well: if today you do not give me my reward, then when the sun sets behind the western mountain, I shall curse you, and so it shall be.” Having spoken thus, Vishvamitra departed, leaving the king seized by fear. Harishchandra, now reduced to misery, bereft of wealth and tormented by the harsh words of the sage, found his wife urging him once more: “Do as I say. Do not let yourself be destroyed by the fire of a curse.” Pressed again and again by her, the king resolved, “O gentle one, I will sell you, though it is pitiless. I will do what even the cruel-hearted would not do. If I am able to utter such harsh words…” With his throat and eyes choked with tears, the distressed king took his wife with him into the city and spoke to the people. “Ho, ho! All citizens, hear my words. Do not ask, ‘Who are you?’ I am cruel, inhuman. I am like a demon, hard-hearted, or even more sinful, for I have come to sell my beloved, yet I do not give up my own life. If any of you has need of a maid, dearer to me than life itself, speak quickly, while I still have the strength to endure.” Then an old brahmin approached 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 is delicate; she cannot perform household tasks, so give her to me. According to her ability, age, beauty, and character, this wealth is appropriate. Accept it and give me the woman.” Hearing these words, King Harishchandra was torn with sorrow and could not reply. The brahmin tied the money into the end of his garment, seized the queen by her hair, and dragged her away. Rohitāśva, their son with raven-black hair, saw his mother being dragged off and began to weep, clutching at her garment. The queen pleaded, “Release me, priest, release me for a moment so 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.” The boy, seeing his mother being taken away, ran after her, crying “Mother!” with tears streaming from his eyes. The brahmin, angered, struck the boy with his foot, but even so, the child clung to his mother, crying “Mother!” without letting go. The queen, in her anguish, pleaded, “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 in my misfortune; unite me with my child, as a cow is joined with her calf.” The brahmin agreed: “Take this wealth, and give me the boy. According to the scriptures on the duties of men and women, the price is set—be it a hundred, a thousand, a hundred thousand, or even a crore.” The birds, witnessing these events, noted that the money was tied up in the brahmin’s upper garment, and taking both mother and son, he bound them together as one and led them away. Seeing his wife and son being led off, the king was overwhelmed with grief and lamented bitterly, sighing again and again. “She whom neither wind, nor sun, nor any other man had ever seen before—my very wife—has now become a slave. This boy, born in the solar dynasty, with tender hands and fingers, has now been sold. Shame on me, so misguided! Alas, beloved! Alas, child! Because of my unrighteous actions, you have come to this state, subject to fate, and yet I do not die—shame on me!” The birds said: As the king lamented thus, the brahmin vanished, quickly taking the queen and her son away through lofty trees and houses. Then Vishvamitra arrived and demanded the wealth from the king. Harishchandra handed over the money he had received from selling his wife and son. Seeing the small amount, the sage Kauśika grew angry and said to the grief-stricken king, “O kṣatriya of low conduct! If you think this is a fitting sacrificial fee for me, then quickly witness my supreme power. Here is the power of my severe austerity, of my pure brahminhood, of my fierce might, and of my faultless study.” Harishchandra pleaded, “O venerable one, I will give you another reward; please wait for some time. At present, my wife has been sold and my son is but a child.” Vishvamitra replied, “O king, only this fourth part of the day remains; this alone is the time I will wait. You must not speak any further.