King Harishchandra, standing humbly before Indra, the king of the gods, bowed low and spoke with a heart full of grace and humility. “O King of the gods,” he said, “please listen to my words. The people of Kosala, my subjects, are sunk in grief because of me. How can I ascend to heaven today, abandoning them in their sorrow? To forsake a devoted follower, I know, is a sin equal to the gravest crimes—a sin as dire as killing a Brahmin, a teacher, a cow, or a woman. It is said that abandoning an innocent devotee who serves with pure devotion may bring ease, but I see no good in such an act, neither in this world nor the next. Therefore, O Indra, go to heaven without me; I will not leave them behind. “If they may ascend to heaven with me, O Lord of gods, then I too will go. Otherwise, I would rather go to hell with them than leave them alone.” Indra replied, “Their merits and sins are their own and separate from yours. How can you all attain heaven together?” But Harishchandra answered, “O Shakra, a king enjoys his kingdom only through the strength of his subjects. With their help, he performs great sacrifices and acts of charity. All that I have accomplished is through their support. Out of desire for heaven, I will not abandon my benefactors. Therefore, O Lord of the gods, may whatever good deeds I have performed—whether giving, sacrificing, reciting, or any other act—may all that be shared among us. The fruits of my actions, which should be enjoyed over many ages, may that, by your grace, be attained by us in a single day.” Hearing these noble words, Indra, the lord of the three worlds, together with Dharma and Viśvāmitra, son of Gādhi, was deeply pleased. Indra declared, “So it shall be.” Then, ascending from the earth to the heavenly realms on splendid aerial chariots, they addressed the people of Ayodhyā, inviting them, “Ascend to heaven.” Filled with joy, the great sage Viśvāmitra brought Rohitāśva to King Harishchandra. In the beautiful city of Ayodhyā, Rohitāśva, the prince, was anointed as king, in the presence of gods, sages, and perfected beings, installed as the lord of men. Then, together with King Harishchandra, all the people—joyful and prosperous, with their friends, sons, servants, and wives—ascended to heaven. At every step, from one aerial chariot to another, the people rose higher, and there was great rejoicing as King Harishchandra joined them. Having attained incomparable prosperity by means of these aerial chariots, the king established dwellings for his people within a celestial city, complete with ramparts and walls. Witnessing this extraordinary prosperity, Uśanas, the great and blessed preceptor of the Daityas, knower of all the truths of scripture, spoke these words: “Never has there been, nor will there be, a king equal to Harishchandra. Whoever hears this tale, even if afflicted by sorrow, will obtain great happiness. One who desires heaven will attain heaven; one who desires a son will obtain a son; one who desires a wife will gain a wife; one who desires a kingdom will obtain a kingdom. Oh, the greatness of forbearance! Oh, the great fruit of giving! By these, Harishchandra has attained the kingship of Indra’s city.” The birds narrating the story said, “Thus have the deeds of Harishchandra been told. Now, O best of sages, listen to what follows: the result of the rājasūya sacrifice, the cause of the earth’s destruction, and the great war called the battle of the Āḍibakas—these are to be heard.” They continued: “When Harishchandra was deprived of his kingdom and had gone to the abode of the gods, the illustrious priest Vasiṣṭha emerged from his watery dwelling. Vasiṣṭha, the sage, had lived by the Ganges for twelve years, and there he learned all that Viśvāmitra had done—the downfall of the generous king Harishchandra, his association with outcastes, and the sale of his wife and son. Hearing of these events, the exceedingly fortunate king was pleased, but the radiant sage Vasiṣṭha was filled with anger toward Viśvāmitra. He declared, ‘My hundred sons were slain by Viśvāmitra, yet even then my anger was not as fierce as it is today, upon hearing that this noble king, great-souled and devoted to the worship of gods and Brahmins, was deprived of his sovereignty. Harishchandra was always truthful, peaceful, free from envy even toward his enemies, sinless, righteous, vigilant, and self-controlled. Yet he, along with his wives, servants, and sons, was brought to the lowest state and cast out from his kingdom, repeatedly humiliated. Therefore, that wicked soul, enemy of Brahmins, who was cast down by the wise, struck by my curse, will become a crane.’ The birds said, ‘Hearing the curse, the mighty Viśvāmitra, descendant of Kusha, also cursed Vasiṣṭha in return, saying, “You too shall become a heron.” Thus, by cursing each other, these two sages of great brilliance—Vasiṣṭha and Viśvāmitra—attained the state of animals. Though they had entered other forms, those two of boundless energy, filled with intense wrath, fought fiercely, displaying immense strength and valor. The heron stood two thousand yojanas tall, O Brahmin, while the crane measured three thousand and ninety yojanas. With blows from their mighty wings, they struck each other, causing intense fear among all creatures. The crane, shaking its wings, struck with bloodshot eyes; the heron, with its neck held high, struck back with its feet. Driven by the wind from their wings, mountains fell to the earth, and the ground trembled beneath the impact. The trembling earth caused the oceans to surge, their waters rising, and the earth herself leaned to one side, ready to descend into the netherworld.