The Beginning of the Kali Age


The Pandavas had set out on the path of the great departure. Govinda had given up his mortal body. Since then, the world felt terribly empty.

Krishna Dvaipayana Vyasa sat in deep sadness and thought, Nothing feels good anymore. Where Krishna is not, how can this Krishna Dvaipayana Vyasa stay there? I too want to go away. But how can I? Shri Krishna has still not given that command. I do not know what to do. I cannot understand anything.

Just then a familiar voice was heard.

"Narayan, Narayan."

Vyasa looked up at once. "Devarshi Narada! Come, come, Devarshi, come. Today, with the sunrise itself, I have received your darshan. Ah, how fortunate I am. Accept the pranam of Krishnadvaipayana Vedavyasa, O Devarshi."

Narada smiled gently. "Narayan, Narayan. Why do you look so sad, Maharshi Vyasa? What are you worrying about so much? Is your body well?"

Vyasa lowered his head. "There is no way to hide from your deep sight, Devarshi. You are right. My mind is not well. Nothing feels good anymore."

Narada became serious. "If even you feel so unhappy, then think once what will happen to the whole world. What has happened to you, Maharshi? If I know any way to make you well, I will surely help you."

Vyasa said, "Since the passing of the five Pandavas and Shri Krishna, nothing feels good to me anymore, Devarshi. There is no happiness anywhere, no joy. For the good of people, I must remain here, for that is the order of the Creator. But this world is no longer the same as before, Devarshi. It is full of desire, greed, and falsehood. What will happen to my Vedas, Vedanta, Upanishads, and Mahabharata, Devarshi? For whom did I create all this, can you tell me?"

Narada listened and then answered softly, "Now I understand the reason for your sorrow, O great sage. For so long you have spoken only of knowledge and action, and so your heart has grown heavy. But peace does not come in this way, Maharshi. To find peace, devotion is needed. But you have never written about that devotion."

Vyasa looked up in wonder. "Is that why I cannot find any peace? Then whose story shall I write, Devarshi? Who can give me peace?"

"Why, Shri Hari," Narada said. "Write about Shri Hari. There is peace nowhere except in him. You must write the story of Hari, Vyasadeva."

Vyasa’s voice trembled. "If I cannot see my Mukunda Murari, then I do not think I will be able to write anything, Devarshi."

Narada said, "Only Shri Krishna’s earthly body has gone away. But can he leave his devotees? He is with you still. There is no difference between Hari and the story of Hari. Maharshi Vyasadeva, now write the story of Hari. Then your sadness will go away."

Vyasa folded his hands. "Wonderful, most wonderful words, Devarshi. If I write the story of Hari, surely I will again gain the company of Krishna. All my sorrow will end. Blessed, blessed is Devarshi Narada."

Narada answered, "No thanks are needed. Those who hear the stories of Krishna’s divine play will also be freed from all sin and fear. In the age of Kali, the name of Krishna alone is the only refuge for the helpless."

Vyasa said eagerly, "I will write, I will write, Devarshi. I will surely write the story of Hari. But who will tell it to the world without a worthy person fit for it?"

Narada asked, "Are you not that person yourself, Vyasadeva?"

Vyasa shook his head. "No, I am not. Rather, you will not find anyone more worthy than your son Sukadeva."

"Maharshi Vyasa."

Vyasa looked around in surprise. "Sukha? But my son is a knower of non-duality. From birth he has remained deep in samadhi. I do not even know where he is. How will he sing the glories of Hari? He does not even speak."

Narada said, "Narayan, Narayan. See with your own eyes the glory of the Lord’s name. Maharshi Vyasa, remember him and call your son by name just once."

Vyasa cried out, "Son Sukha, can you hear me? Son Sukha, you, you must hear the story of Hari. Sukha, come down, my son, come down."

At once Sukha appeared and bowed. "Sukha offers pranam to you, Father. Pranam, Devarshi Narada."

Vyasa’s eyes filled with tears. "Son! Truly you, you have come, my son."

Sukha said calmly, "What endless divine play of the Lord. For what reason have you called me? Please command me."

Vyasa said, "Son, Devarshi Narada has ordered me to write the story of Hari. That Krishna-lila will become famous in this world by the name of Shrimad Bhagavatam. Without hearing that story, the people of Kali Yuga will not gain liberation. You must tell that story to the world, Sukha."

Sukha bowed his head. "I place your command on my head, Father. So it shall be."


I am Sukha, the only son of Maharshi Krishna Dvaipayana Vedavyasa. My mother’s name is Ghritachi. It is true that I was born from the womb of Ghritachi, but she was an apsara. Just after my birth, she left me and went away to Indraloka. So I did not receive a mother’s love either. Perhaps that is why no bond formed in me even after birth.

My father Vyasadeva, of course, never let me feel the lack of a mother. But I am the heir of a great wise saintly father. Affection or attachment cannot bind me. From birth I have been an ascetic. For so long I remained absorbed in samadhi. Now, at my father’s call, I had to come down.

On the command of Devarshi Narada, Father created the story of Krishna’s divine play in the Shrimad Bhagavatam. After completing that holy story, Father told me a wonderful tale. Now I will tell that tale to you.

At that time, the Dvapara Yuga was almost at its end. Shri Krishna had returned to his own divine home. As long as the Lord was here, Bhakti Devi was filled with great joy. But after that, she came down to the roads like a beggar. With her were her two sons, Viveka and Vairagya.

Bhakti Devi cried out, "O Lord, I can no longer bear your absence. Without you, I have no value in this world. O God, no one gives me a place anymore. Where shall I go with this Viveka and Vairagya? Please tell me, Lord."

Her sons said helplessly, "If you become so helpless, then what will happen to us, Mother? Then we will have no shelter at all. We live only because of your strength, Mother."

Just then a divine sound came through the air.

"Namo Narayanaya, Namo Narayanaya, Namo Narayanaya, Hari He."

Narada arrived there, singing the Lord’s name. When he saw them, he stopped.

"What is this, what is this! Bhakti Devi, why do you look so troubled? And why do Viveka and Vairagya seem so helpless? What has happened to you?"

Bhakti Devi answered, "We have no shelter anymore, Devarshi. Shri Krishna has gone to his supreme abode. We have no value anymore, Devarshi. No one needs us now. No one looks for us."

Narada said, "Narayan, Narayan. Be calm, Devi. If the world forgets you, this earth will be destroyed. Do not be so distressed now. Your good days are returning, Devi. By the instruction of Sanat Kumar, the mind-born son of Brahma, I have begun to spread the name of Hari. No one but you will understand the greatness of this holy name, Devi."

Bhakti Devi’s face brightened at once. "The name of Hari? Are you singing the name of Hari, Devarshi? Look, look, joy has filled my whole body. Hare Krishna Hare Krishna Krishna Krishna."

Bhakti Devi and her two sons now became alive again with new strength. Other holy saints also came there, drawn by the sweet singing of Devarshi Narada. Such is the greatness of Hari’s name that as soon as it entered their ears, everyone seemed to gain a new life.

And from then on, Devarshi Narada spread the word that this story of Hari written by Vyasadeva was the only great medicine for the age of Kali. By hearing this holy story, in this age people can be freed from fear of death, sorrow, hatred, impurity, attachment, and many other things.


After hearing this from Father Vyasadeva, I asked him, "The four Vedas that you created are the heart of all scriptures, Father. Then why did you again have to create this Bhagavata Mahapurana?"

Father replied, "Son, the Vedic scriptures tell people about sin and virtue. They speak about the results of sin and virtue after death. According to sin and virtue, a person goes to heaven or hell. But nowhere in them is devotion spoken of."

I asked, "Sukha, must human beings remain bound by sin and virtue, Father? Is there no freedom from sin and virtue? Can they not go beyond them, Father?"

Father answered, "The scriptures that are now in the world do not have that power. Son, none of them can give liberation. They teach action and speak of duty, but they cannot take one to the door of moksha. By following these scriptures, one may gain heaven after death. But when one’s good merit is exhausted, one must be born again on earth. Liberation will not come."

I said, "Take me beyond sin and virtue, Father. Tell me of the highest gain. I want to hear that."

Father’s face became radiant. "Son Sukha, this Bhagavata that I will tell you is above the Vedas, Vedanta, and everything else. This alone is the highest scripture. By hearing this, a person becomes free from the hold of sin and virtue, my son."

I asked, "Then is Shrimad Bhagavatam not a Vedic scripture, Father?"

Father smiled and pointed before us. "The Bhagavata cannot be tied within any fixed boundary, Sukha. Do you know what the Bhagavata is like? Look at that tree in front of us. Can you drink juice directly from that tree?"

"No, Father, that is never possible."

"But the tree has its own juice. Do you know where you can find that juice? In the fruit of the tree. That juice can be found nowhere else except in the fruit. When the juice of the tree grows rich and enters the fruit, only then does the fruit become sweet and delicious. The Bhagavata is just like that. It contains the essence of all scriptures. It has no fixed limit, my son."

Sitting beside my father, Maharshi Vyasadeva, I then began to drink the nectar of Shri Hari’s divine play. King Janaka of Mithila was my guru. He taught me the path of non-dual spiritual practice. I had always followed his path. But as I listened to this wonderful story of Hari from Father’s lips, my heart changed. My heart seemed to float away in the stories of God’s love and divine play. Listening to those sweet stories, I became deeply absorbed. Leaving behind thoughts of non-duality, that story of Hari now became my meditation and my wisdom.

After telling me the story of Hari, my father said, "This story will remove all sorrow from people, my son. It will bring peace to suffering people. It will destroy the fear of death in dying people. This story is a very precious treasure. From today, you are the heir to this sweetness. From you, the whole world will hear this story of Hari, my child."

I then asked, "Please tell me, Father, why human sorrow begins. Is human sorrow only one thing?"

Father answered, "Son, there is no end to human sorrow and pain. Sorrow is born from fear. On one side there is fear of evil powers, on another there is fear of one’s own sickness and grief, and beyond that there is also fear of other people."

I asked, "Why do people fear other people, Father?"

"Because no one knows what is in another person’s heart," Father said. "The fear of who may harm them and when destroys people, Sukha. This fear remains until death. If one hears the Bhagavata even once, one can go beyond all fear, my son. Suffering will end. There is no other way to liberation except Hari and his story."

The words of my father, my Brahma-knowing father, came true. This Bhagavata story saved King Parikshit, the grandson of Arjuna’s son Abhimanyu, from the fear of death. By Father’s command, I came to tell him the story of Hari. Around Parikshit, a flood of love for Hari spread through the whole world. But that is still a little later. First let me tell the story of Maharaja Parikshit.


It was because of Parikshit that Kali rose in this world. If Parikshit had not shown mercy, Kali could not have become so destructive. But who can go against destiny? I am only an unmoving witness. I appeared only to tell the Bhagavata, the story of King Parikshit and Krishna’s divine play.

Now I begin my tale with Parikshit, the heir of the Pandavas. In Parikshit, the heir of the Pandavas, all the qualities of his grandfather Arjuna were present. At the time of this prince’s birth, the Brahmins had said, "Sadhu, Sadhu, this child’s birth chart is very auspicious. Through him, a new example of dharma will again be made on earth. Holy and noble souls will again come down to this world."

The prophecy of the Brahmins about Parikshit slowly came true. There was no end to Parikshit’s strength, bravery, courage, and kindness. He was the very image of kingly duty. The Pandavas had once lived in hiding in the kingdom of Virata, and Parikshit also formed a close bond with that kingdom. The prince of that kingdom, Uttara, was close to Arjuna. Parikshit married Uttara’s daughter Iravati. Among the four sons of Parikshit and Iravati, the eldest was Janamejaya.

In every part of life, Parikshit followed the Pandavas. During his rule, the power of dharma and the gods on earth had not weakened much. But even then Kali began to search for some opening. Without finding some weak place, how could he enter the world?

One day Parikshit heard of this from a messenger.

The messenger came and bowed. "Victory to the Maharaja. I have come with very bad news."

Parikshit asked at once, "What news have you brought, messenger? Are all the people of this great kingdom living in peace and happiness? Tell me, no violence is being done to the Brahmins, is it? And no one is behaving cruelly to helpless creatures, is that so?"

The messenger replied, "Maharaja, those things are not happening right now, it is true. But in the near future, even more terrible things may happen, O King. Thinking of that, I have become frightened."

Parikshit straightened. "What are you saying, messenger? What has happened in my kingdom? Tell me everything at once in full detail."

The messenger said, "Maharaja, Kali has entered your kingdom. Ignoring all your protections, Kali is spreading his own influence, Maharaja. Very, very soon he will become a great enemy of dharma and justice."

Parikshit’s eyes flashed. "Who is he? Such great pride in Kali! He has entered my kingdom after disobeying my order? No, no, then it is not right to delay. I will drive him out of my kingdom at once. Commander, prepare for my campaign of conquest. Wherever I find Kali, there I will kill him."


As soon as he heard Maharaja Parikshit’s order, the commander of the Kuru army prepared the soldiers for war. The horses of Parikshit’s chariot were rare. With the lion-banner flying on that chariot drawn by blue horses, and with a great bow in his hand, Parikshit set out on his campaign. A huge force of chariots, elephants, horses, and foot soldiers went with him.

He began to travel through many lands. But Kali was nowhere to be found. Wandering like this, one day Parikshit arrived on the bank of the Saraswati River. For that day, his journey did not end there. On this very bank of the Saraswati lies Kurukshetra. A terrible war had once taken place there among his ancestors. Thinking of that, perhaps King Parikshit became a little distracted.

Then, suddenly, a little distance from his camp on the riverbank, he saw a strange and painful sight.

A Shudra dressed like a king stood there with a huge stick in his hand. He was mercilessly beating a white cow. The cow was weak and crippled. She had only one leg. She could not save herself from those terrible blows. She could not even run away. In great fear, she stood trembling badly.

Seeing this cruel act toward that helpless creature, Parikshit blazed up in anger. In a sharp voice he shouted, "Stop, Shudra. Your boldness is no small thing. You are beating this innocent helpless creature so cruelly."

The man turned and said rudely, "Who are you? Why are you stopping my work?"

Parikshit answered, "I am King Parikshit. It is true that Shri Krishna has gone to Vaikuntha along with my grandfather Arjuna. But do not think that means there is no protector left in this world. You are a sinner, a great sinner. I sentence you to death."

At once the man trembled. "Forgive me, Maharaja. Please forgive me."

Parikshit said, "After doing such a great evil, now you ask me for forgiveness? Are you not ashamed? Who are you? Where have you come from?"

The man bowed and said, "Maharaja, my name is Kali. Dvapara Yuga has now ended. By the order of the Creator, my rule will now begin. This is how it always happens in creation, Maharaja. No one has the courage to change this rule. I am only following the rule."

Parikshit said sternly, "Oh, so you are Kali? I understand. You are the one I have been searching for. Now that I have found you within my reach, I will not let you go so easily."

Kali replied, "Why, Maharaja? I have done you no harm."

Parikshit pointed toward the trembling cow. "If you remain, evil will begin on every side. I just saw with my own eyes what was happening here a moment ago. I will not allow you to move about so freely. Why were you beating this helpless creature in such a way?"

Kali said, "Forgive me, Maharaja. If this cow remains safe, then my purpose will not succeed. I will not be able to enter this world. And yet, if I do not come, how will creation reach its end?"

Parikshit frowned. "What? Then who is this cow?"

Kali answered, "Please ask her yourself, Maharaja."

Parikshit turned toward the cow and said, "Standing on one leg in the form of a cow, who are you? Are you some god?"

The cow replied, "Maharaja Parikshit, I am Dharma. Your ancestors followed me. But if I remain, this Kali will not be able to spread his power."

Parikshit at once bowed. "O Dharma, accept my pranam. But who has cut off your other three legs? Tell me the name of that cruel oppressor. He is an enemy of the Pandavas. Whoever destroys the peace and happiness of my people, I will banish him from this kingdom. Do not worry."

Dharma said, "O King, you are the worthy heir of Maharaja Pandu. You have acted just as he would have. But, Maharaja, before I blame another, let me tell you about myself. I am deeply confused, O King."

Parikshit looked astonished. "Dharma himself is confused? What are you saying? Can this even be believed?"

Dharma answered, "I speak the truth, O King. More than the pain of the cruel blows of Kali, one thing hurts me even more. I know all the teachings of the world’s scriptures, and yet I cannot escape my dissatisfaction. That dissatisfaction is destroying me."

Parikshit said, "What has happened, Dharmadeva? Tell me clearly the cause of your problem. Can I help you in any way?"

Dharma replied, "I do not know the path by which human beings gain liberation, O King. I do not know why living beings suffer. Can you judge with your wisdom and tell me the true answer to my question, Maharaja? What is the path to moksha? Do you know, O King?"

Parikshit answered with humility, "Dharmadeva, this is a very difficult question. When you yourself cannot answer it, then how can I answer it? My knowledge is very small before yours."

Dharma said, "Then how will you lessen my suffering, Maharaja? Maharaja, your knowledge and wisdom are like Arjuna’s. But no, except for giving punishment, you can do nothing else."

Parikshit thought for a moment and then said, "You did not tell me the name of the one who harmed you because you are Dharma. Very well, then I will guess it myself. In Satya Yuga you had four legs. And those four legs were penance, purity, compassion, and truth."

Dharma nodded. "Your guess is correct, Maharaja."

Parikshit continued, "As the ages went on, under the attack of unrighteousness, your three legs were destroyed one by one. Now you live with only one leg. And that leg is truth. This Kali Yuga, the form of unrighteousness, wants to destroy even that leg. I will kill him at once."

Hearing this, Kali threw off his royal dress and fell at the king’s feet. "Protect me, protect me, O King, protect me. Do not kill me. I am giving up my royal dress and taking shelter at your feet. Protect one who has surrendered, O King. Fulfill your duty as king, Maharaja Parikshit."


Parikshit stood silent for a moment. Then he said, "Very well. Since you have taken shelter with me, I will not kill you. But I will not let you stay here either. If you remain here, unrighteousness will grow. Under your influence, even the king of the land will support injustice. By your touch, the worship of Shri Hari will be disturbed. You have no place here anymore, Kali. Leave at once."

Kali folded his hands and pleaded, "Maharaja, by the order of time, I had to come. It is not possible to stop me. No one will be able to hold me back. Only you frighten me. Wherever I stay, you will rush there with your bow. So I ask you, Maharaja, choose a few places for me where I may live without fear."

Parikshit answered, "Very well. I give you four places, Kali. Where gambling takes place, where drinking is done, where people enjoy themselves with women, and where violence is strong. You may not stay anywhere except these four places."

Kali bowed lower. "Have mercy on this low one, Maharaja. Show compassion. Give me one more place. Never again will I ask anything from you."

Parikshit said, "So you need a fifth place. Very well, I give the order. You may also live among wealth and riches. But you may not stay anywhere except these five places. Remember this."

Kali said, "Victory to the Maharaja. I will obey your order with all my heart and soul. O King, I give you my word."

By King Parikshit’s order, Kali Yuga gained five places to stay. Falsehood, drinking, desire, hatred, and wealth became the homes of Kali. These five places are the root cause of unrighteousness. So for a person who wishes to be good, all these five places are equally harmful.

But Maharaja Parikshit did not kill Kali. It is true that Kali had taken shelter with him. But there was another reason too for letting him live. Parikshit knew of one good quality of Kali. A person in whom conscience is still alive remains free from Kali’s control. Only one without wisdom and conscience becomes Kali’s victim. And the greatest secret is this: in this Kali Yuga, simply by singing the name and glory of Shri Hari, the path to the highest gain opens. People no longer need to do hard spiritual practice. Thinking of this, Parikshit did not destroy Kali. He gave him shelter.

Kali and Parikshit both then returned peacefully to their own places. Kali went to wealth. And Parikshit went hunting.


While hunting in the forest, Parikshit chased a deer deep into the woods. But he could not find the deer anywhere. At the end of the day, very tired and thirsty, he wandered and came to the ashram of the sage Shamika. There was no water anywhere nearby. Thinking that he might get water from this sage, Parikshit came and stood inside the ashram. But there too, no one could be seen anywhere.

Sage Shamika had matted hair on his head and wore deer skin. Under a tree he sat, deeply absorbed in meditation.

Parikshit showed respect to the sage. But he was confused from great tiredness and thirst. On top of that, he had not received the proper honor due to a king. In his mind Parikshit became angry. But in a controlled voice he said to the sage absorbed in meditation, "I am very tired. Can you give me water to drink? O holy one, can you hear me? O holy one, why are you not answering me? I am King Parikshit. Can you not hear me, holy one? I am very thirsty. Please give me some water."

No answer came.

Inwardly the king thought, Such insult to the king of the land. No one gave him a seat to sit on. No one gave him water to drink. This sage has no sense of courtesy. He must receive punishment for insulting me. What shall I do? What shall I do? There, there, I will hang this dead snake around his neck. He pretends to be in samadhi and insults me. Now he will receive the result in his own hands.

From the ashram yard, Maharaja Parikshit lifted a dead snake with the tip of his bow. Then he hung that snake around the neck of the meditating sage Shamika.

Parikshit, who was by nature calm, gentle, and wise, who usually never made mistakes, in pride and anger committed that terrible sinful act.

Thinking about that sage, Parikshit returned to the palace. He could not understand whether the sage had truly been deep in meditation or had insulted him on purpose. Driving his horses fast, Parikshit went back toward his capital.


The young son of Sage Shamika, Shringi, was playing a little distance away from the ashram with the sons of other sages. Just then a boy came running to him and said, "Shringi, Shringi, go and see your ashram. There is no difference between Lord Shiva and your father now. Both have snakes around their necks. Only Shiva’s snake is alive, and the snake around your father’s neck is dead."

Shringi stared at him. "What are you saying? I do not understand anything. Which snake are you speaking of?"

The boy replied, "You will not understand my words now. Hurry back to your ashram. If you look at your father, everything will become clear."

Shringi said, "Is that so? Then come with me to the ashram. Let us see with our own eyes what has happened to my father."

Taking his young companions with him, Shringi returned to the ashram. Seeing the dead snake around his meditating father’s neck, he was struck with anger, shock, and rage. The other boys laughed when they saw Sage Shamika with the dead snake around him. But Shringi’s eyes became like fire with anger. Trembling, he asked, "Who has done this to my father? Who dared to insult my father so greatly? You, do you know anything? Have you heard anything from anyone?"

One boy answered, "I saw it, Shringi. A little while ago I saw Maharaja Parikshit leaving this ashram."

Shringi cried out, "Maharaja Parikshit! How dare he! He does not know how to honor Brahmins. It is the rule of scripture that Kshatriya kings must guard Brahmins like servants. Does Parikshit not know this? He entered a Brahmin’s home and insulted him there. Because Lord Shri Krishna is no longer alive, does he think sin will go unpunished? I myself will punish him now."

The boys asked, "What will you do, Shringi?"

Shringi answered, "Though I am young in age, Brahma-fire burns within me. The power of my penance will not go in vain. I will give Maharaja Parikshit the proper punishment. Watch what I do. Come with me to the bank of the Kaushiki River."

"Yes, yes, let us go to the riverbank."

At the bank of the river, Shringi took water in his hand and said, "Om Vishnu, Om Vishnu, Om Vishnu. I am Shringi, son of Sage Shamika. Taking water in my hand from the Kaushiki River, and touching this water, I give this curse. The wicked Parikshit has insulted my father. He has insulted a great wise Brahmin ascetic. For that sin, within seven days from today, he will die from the bite of Takshaka, the serpent king."

The curse had been spoken.

The young Shringi then returned to his own ashram and began to cry loudly in great sorrow over the insult to his father. Hearing his son’s crying, Sage Shamika came back to outer awareness. Hearing his son’s wailing, he could understand nothing. In surprise he asked, "What has happened, my son? Why are you crying so bitterly? Has some terrible thing happened somewhere? Why do you, you seem so restless, Shringi?"

Shringi pointed and said, "Maharaja Parikshit has insulted you, Father. Look, look at yourself and see what wrong he has done."

Shamika looked down and saw the dead snake. Then he said slowly, "Parikshit? Maharaja Parikshit came here? I knew nothing of it. Surely he called to me. When he got no answer from me, perhaps in deep insult he hung this dead snake around my neck. And how would he understand? At that time I, I was deeply absorbed in meditation."

Shringi said in agitation, "No, no, no, it is not his fault? Seeing your insult, I have already given a terrible curse to the Maharaja, Father. Within the next seven days, he will die from the poison of Takshaka."

Sage Shamika was filled with pain. "What have you done, Shringi? You are still only a child in age. Why did you give such a great curse? For this small fault, you gave him such a great punishment, my son? No, no, no, I cannot support this deed of yours at all."

Shringi said, "But Maharaja, Maharaja insulted you, Father. How can a Kshatriya have such great pride?"

Shamika replied, "Listen, a king can never be like ordinary people, my son. It is because of the king’s power, rule, and far sight that the people can live without fear. A king works for the good of people. The king, the king is himself a form of Narayan. Without him, this, this whole society will fall apart. Son, shame, shame, you are only a child. How could you know all these things? What have I done? What have I done? Listen, listen, listen, if there is no king, Sanatan Dharma will disappear. In this land, in this whole land, disorder will rise. Emperor Parikshit is himself the protector of dharma. Among devotees he is the greatest. Parikshit has performed many Ashwamedha sacrifices. And you have cursed him."

Shringi burst into tears. "Forgive me, Father. Without knowing, I have made a terrible mistake. Save me, save me, Father."

Shamika shook his head sadly. "No, my son, I cannot forgive you. Ask forgiveness from God himself. If he forgives you, only then will you be forgiven, otherwise not."

Shringi fell down and prayed, "O Lord, O merciful one, forgive me, Lord. I will never again commit such an offense. O Father of the world, forgive me, forgive me."

Shamika too prayed, "My little son is very foolish. Without knowing, without knowing, he has committed a great offense. O Narayan, O Narayan, please forgive my, my Shringi. Protect him, protect him, Lord."


While father and son in Sage Shamika’s ashram were praying with one mind to God for rescue, Maharaja Parikshit, as he traveled on the road to his kingdom, was filled with strong self-blame in his heart.

He began to think, Shame, shame, what have I done? I have greatly dishonored a Brahmarshi. How did my mind become so confused? For insulting Sage Shamika, surely some terrible curse will fall upon me. Let it come. That curse will be my proper punishment. Let such a curse come that no one will ever again dare to do such a sinful act. Let all, all of this of mine burn to ashes. I, I am waiting for that. Shame on me, shame on me.

While blaming himself in his mind, Maharaja Parikshit came and sat in his royal court. All his friends and attendants began to shout, "Victory to Maharaja Parikshit."

But today Maharaja Parikshit paid no attention to that cry of victory. He did not even raise his hand to bless anyone. Absent-mindedly the Maharaja came and sat on the throne.

Just then a messenger announced, "Victory to the Maharaja. A young sage has come to you with a special message from the ashram of Sage Shamika. He seeks your audience."

Parikshit said quietly, "A young sage has come? Bring him to me at once. I was waiting for him."

Soon the young sage entered and bowed. "Maharaja Parikshit, please accept my greetings. I am the young sage Gauramukha. By the order of the knower of Brahman, Sage Shamika, I have come to you. I bring a very terrible message for you, Maharaja."

Parikshit answered, "I know, young sage. I have already prepared myself. Please say without fear what you have come to say, Gauramukha. I bow my head before you. Now tell me of that arrow of death."

Maharaja Parikshit heard from the young sage Gauramukha about that terrible curse of Shringi. All the members of his court trembled. But Parikshit, calm and steady in mind, began to search for a way to save himself.

Meanwhile, hearing of Shringi’s curse, Takshaka also made himself ready. He had long carried hatred against the line of the Pandavas.