In the depths of his anguish, the noble King Harishchandra lamented, “In the dreadful forest of sword-leaves, I will endure terrible mutilation, or suffer the torments of Raurava and Maharaurava, those great hells. For one who is submerged in the ocean of sorrow, the only shore is death—and now, my only son, the hope of my lineage, is lost.” His heart heavy, he continued, “Though I am strong, I too am overpowered by the force of destiny, as water is by the current. Helpless and afflicted, how can I end my own life?” He reflected further, “Perhaps, when suffering torments a man, he contemplates sinful acts; yet even the pain of the animal state, or the agony of the sword-leaf forest, cannot compare to this. Such is the torment of Vaitarani, with its cruel hooks—so too is the grief of losing a son. Here I am, while my son’s body burns in the sacrificial fire.” Turning to his wife, he said, “I will fall, slender one. Forgive my misdeeds. With my permission, you may return, lovely-smiling one, to the brahmin’s house. Listen to my words with devotion: if I have ever given, or offered, or pleased the elders, may there be reunion in the next world with my son and with you. For in this world, how could such a wish come to pass?” He added, “It would be better for me to go with you, seeking our son. Smiling one, if I have ever spoken anything improper, even in jest or in secret, let all that be forgiven by you, as I ask now. Do not, out of pride as a queen, disregard that brahmin; by every effort, you must please him, as you would your lord and deity, O auspicious one.” The queen replied, “I too, O royal sage, unable to bear the weight of this sorrow, will go with you today into the blazing fire.” At that moment, the birds observed, “Then, having prepared the funeral pyre, the king placed his son upon it; together with his wife, he stood there with hands joined in reverence.” In that solemn hour, Harishchandra fixed his mind upon the Supreme Self—Lord Narayana, Hari, who dwells in the cave of the heart, Vasudeva, Lord of the gods, the beginningless and endless Brahman, Krishna, clad in yellow robes, the auspicious one. As he meditated thus, all the gods, with Indra at their head and Dharma leading them, swiftly descended. Upon arrival, they announced, “O king, listen, lord! Here is the Grandfather himself, and Dharma, the Blessed One, in person.” The Sadhyas, Visvedevas, Maruts, guardians of the worlds with their vehicles, Nagas, Siddhas, Gandharvas, Rudras, and the Ashvins—all had gathered. Among them was Vishvamitra, who once could not befriend the threefold universe, but now wished to establish friendship with Harishchandra. Then Dharma, Indra, and Vishvamitra, son of Gadhi, ascended and arrived. Dharma spoke: “Do not act rashly, O king! I, Dharma, have come to you, pleased by your virtues of forbearance, self-control, truth, and more.” Indra added: “O Harishchandra, greatly fortunate one! I, Shakra, have come to you; with your wife and son, you have conquered the eternal worlds. Ascend to heaven, O King, together with your wife and son—by your own deeds you have attained that which is exceedingly difficult for others to reach.” At Indra’s word, a rain of nectar fell from the sky, destroying death itself. There was a great shower of flowers and the sound of divine drums as the gods gathered in celebration. Miraculously, the king’s son arose—his body delicate, perfectly healthy, his senses and mind clear and serene. King Harishchandra, adorned with celestial garlands and garments, at once embraced his son, together with his radiant wife. His heart, now completely fulfilled and overflowing with supreme joy, was transformed in that very moment. Indra spoke again: “With your wife and son, you shall attain the highest blessed state; ascend, O greatly fortunate one, by the fruits of your own deeds.” But Harishchandra, ever dutiful, replied, “Though permitted by you, O Lord of the gods, I will not ascend to the abode of the gods without first fulfilling my obligation to my master, the outcaste.” Dharma explained, “Foreseeing your future hardship, I myself led you to the state of an outcaste and revealed that fickleness to you.” Indra urged, “Ascend, O Harishchandra, to that supreme place which is sought by all men on earth—the realm attained by the righteous.” Harishchandra bowed and said, “O King of the gods, hear my words, spoken with humility and gratitude. The people of Kosala remain there, their minds sunk in grief because of me—how can I go to heaven, abandoning them today? To abandon an innocent devotee who serves with devotion is declared to be a sin as grave as killing a Brahmin, a teacher, a cow, or a woman. Though it may bring me ease, I see no good in this world or the next in such abandonment; therefore, O Indra, go to heaven without me. If they may go to heaven with me, O Lord of the gods, then I too will go; otherwise, I will go even to hell together with them.” Indra replied, “Their many merits and sins are distinct and separate; how can you, as a group, again attain heaven?” Harishchandra answered, “O Shakra, a king enjoys his kingdom through the power of his subjects, performs great sacrifices, and carries out works of charity. All this I have accomplished through their support; I will not abandon my benefactors out of desire for heaven.” He continued, “Therefore, O Lord of the gods, whatever good deeds I have performed—whether giving, sacrificing, reciting, or any other act—may all that be with us. The fruit of my actions, which is to be enjoyed over many ages—may that, by your grace, be attained by us in a single day.” Thus, with devotion and unshakable righteousness, Harishchandra, his wife, and his son stood before the assembled gods, their hearts pure and their deeds shining as an example for all the worlds.