Then, I heard the sound of water being filled from a pitcher. Mistaking it for the noise of an elephant, I shot my arrow. When I reached the riverbank, I saw an ascetic lying on the ground, pierced in the heart by my arrow—his life had already departed. O venerable one, it was upon hearing that sound, thinking to slay an elephant, that I released an iron arrow into the water; by that, your son was killed. Tormented by his own words, I quickly drew the arrow from his vital spot. With the arrow withdrawn, he attained heaven right there; and you, revered and blind, lamented and grieved for him. Unknowingly, I had struck your son so suddenly; now that things have come to this, whatever remains, let the sage show me mercy. Hearing those cruel words, sighing and consumed by grief, the venerable sage could not restrain his intense sorrow. His face streaming with tears, sighing, worn by sorrow, the great and radiant one spoke to me as I stood before him with joined palms: "O King, had you not confessed this evil deed to me yourself, your head would have split instantly into a hundred thousand pieces as its result. "O King, the slaying of a forest-dweller—especially by a Kshatriya—if done knowingly, would cast down even Indra from his place. If a sage steadfast in austerity is knowingly struck with such a weapon, the head splits into seven parts as a result. But since this was done out of ignorance, you live; otherwise, today the lineage of the Raghus would have perished—how then could you remain?" He then said to me, "Lead us, O King, to that place; today we wish to see our son for the last time." His body stained with blood, his deerskin garment scattered, lying unconscious on the ground, he had departed for the realm of righteousness. Alone, I led those two, greatly afflicted, to the spot. I let the sage and his wife touch their son. The ascetics, having reached and touched their son, fell upon his body, and his father spoke these words: "Am I not dear to you, my son? Behold your mother, O righteous one; why do you not embrace her, my gentle-voiced child? Speak. Am I not dear to you, my son? Behold your mother, O righteous one; why do you not embrace her, my gentle-voiced child? Speak. "Whose sweet voice, reciting the sacred texts or other teachings, especially at night, will I now hear, touching my heart? Who, having performed the evening rites, bathed, and offered oblations, will now praise me as I sit, afflicted by grief and fear for my son? Who will bring roots, tubers, and fruits and feed me, helpless, without support or protector, as one would a dear guest? How, my son, will I care for this blind, aged, ascetic mother of yours, wretched and longing for her son? "Stay, do not go, my son, to the abode of Yama; tomorrow, together with your mother, you shall depart with me. Both of us, stricken by grief, without support, pitiable in the forest, will soon go to Yama’s realm, bereft of you. Then, seeing Vaivasvata, I will speak these words: 'Let the king of righteousness forgive me; let him support these parents of mine.' The righteous, illustrious guardian of the world ought to grant me one inexhaustible boon of fearlessness for such a one as I. "Just as you, my son, are innocent and slain by one who acted wickedly, by that truth, swiftly go to the worlds attained by warriors fallen in battle. Go, my son, to that supreme state which the brave, who do not turn away in battle and fall facing the foe, attain. Go, my son, to that state which Sagara, Shaibya, Dilipa, Janamejaya, Nahuṣa, and Dhundhumāra have attained. Go to the state attained by all the virtuous, by those devoted to study, by givers of land, by those who maintain sacred fires, and by those faithful to one wife. Go, my son, to the state attained by givers of a thousand cows, by those who honor their teachers, and by those who have renounced the body. "No one born in this lineage goes to an unfortunate state; but he by whom you, my kinsman, were slain, will go there." Again and again, he lamented in misery; then, together with his wife, he began to perform the water-rite for their departed son. By his own deeds, the ascetic’s son, in a divine form, swiftly ascended to heaven together with Indra, the knower of action. That ascetic, together with Indra, spoke to his aged parents, comforted them for a moment, and addressed them: "By your service, I have attained a great place; and soon, you both will reach my abode as well." Having spoken thus, the ascetic’s son, self-controlled, quickly ascended to heaven in a radiant, divine chariot. Then, having quickly performed the water-rite with his wife, the great-souled ascetic, with joined palms, addressed me as I stood nearby: "O King, kill me at once today; I have no pain in death, since by your arrow you have made me, who had only one son, childless. But because my pure son was slain by you unknowingly, I shall curse you with a sorrow most grievous and terrible.