Harishchandra, having surrendered his kingdom to the sage Vishvamitra and cleared it of all obstacles, stood before him and said, “O revered one, the only things left to me are these three bodies—my own, my wife’s, and my son’s.” Vishvamitra replied sternly, “Even so, you must give me the sacrificial gift. If the gift is withheld, the Brahmins suffer harm, especially as you have promised it.” He continued, “As long as the Brahmins remain satisfied during the Rājasūya sacrifice, O king, so long must the royal gift be given. You have pledged to give what you promise, to fight those who threaten, and to protect the afflicted. This was your vow.” Harishchandra, humbled and bereft, answered, “O sage, I have nothing left at present. I shall give you what you seek in due course. Please show your grace, considering my sincerity.” Vishvamitra pressed him further: “How much time should I wait for you, O lord of men? Speak quickly, or the fire of my curse will consume you.” Harishchandra replied, “O sage, I will give you the sacrificial wealth within a month. I have no riches now, but grant me permission to fulfill my promise.” Vishvamitra relented, saying, “Go, O foremost of kings, uphold your duty. May your path be auspicious and free of obstacles.” Permitted to depart, Harishchandra, the lord of the earth, set out on foot, accompanied by his beloved wife, who walked beside him though she was unaccustomed to such hardship. As the great king left the city with his wife and son, the citizens cried out in anguish, joined by his loyal followers. They pleaded, “Alas, why do you abandon us, always afflicted and suffering? You are devoted to righteousness, O king, and have shown us favor. Take us also, O royal sage, if you care for righteousness. Wait a moment, O king, so we may see your lotus-like face. Let us drink in your presence with our bee-like eyes; when will we see you again?” Those who walked before and behind the departing king lamented his departure. His wife carried their young son, and his servants, like elephants, stood in the path as he left. The townspeople mourned, “This king Harishchandra now goes by foot; alas, O king, your tender-skinned, beautiful-browed son walks with you. What will his face become, covered in dust along the road? Stay, O foremost of kings, uphold your duty.” They reminded him, “Compassion is the highest duty, especially for Kṣatriyas. What are wives, sons, riches, or grains? Having abandoned all, we have become your shadow. Why do you leave us?” They cried, “Wherever you are, there we are also; happiness is where you dwell. The city is where you reside, and heaven is wherever our king is.” Hearing these heartfelt words, the king, overwhelmed by sorrow and compassion for his people, paused on the path. Seeing Harishchandra disturbed by the townspeople’s pleas, Vishvamitra approached, his eyes wide with anger, and rebuked him, “Shame on you, wicked in conduct, speaking false and crooked words! You gave me your kingdom; why do you now wish to take it back?” Harishchandra, trembling at the harsh words, replied, “I will go,” and quickly departed, grasping his beloved’s hand. As he dragged his delicate wife, weary from exhaustion, Vishvamitra, also known as Kauśika, suddenly struck her with a stick. Witnessing this, Harishchandra, stricken with grief, said only, “I will go,” and spoke nothing further. At that moment, five compassionate gods spoke among themselves, “What worlds will Vishvamitra, so sinful, attain? By whom the best of sacrificers has been cast down from his own kingdom—by whose faith will we drink the purified soma at the great sacrifice and depart joyfully, led by the mantras?” Hearing their words, Kauśika, filled with anger, cursed them: “All of you shall attain human birth.” The gods pleaded with him, and the sage relented, saying, “Even in your human birth, you shall have no offspring. There will be no taking of wives, nor envy; freed from desire and anger, you will become gods again.” Thus, the gods descended by their own portions into the house of Kuru, and the five sons of Pandu were born from Draupadi’s womb. For this reason, the five mighty sons of Pandu did not take wives, due to the curse of that great sage. “So,” the narrator concluded, “I have told you everything—the basis of the story of the sons of Pandu—and have sung the fourfold question. What else do you wish to hear?” Jaimini, listening intently, said, “You have narrated all this in order, according to my questions. I am deeply curious about the story of Harishchandra. Ah! That great-souled one endured the utmost hardship. Did he at last attain happiness, O best of twice-born?” The story continued: Hearing Vishvamitra’s words, the king slowly departed, followed by his sorrowful wife Śaivya and his son Rohita. The lord of the earth journeyed to the divine city of Varanasi, a place not meant for human enjoyment, for it is under the protection of the wielder of the trident, Shiva. Afflicted by sorrow, Harishchandra went there on foot with his devoted wife. As he entered the city, he saw Vishvamitra present. Seeing him arrive, Harishchandra became humble and respectful; with joined palms, he spoke to the great sage, “O sage, here are my life, my son, and this wife of mine. Whatever you require, accept it at once as the highest offering.