By fate’s decree, the serpent race was denied the nectar of immortality; their near grasp of Amrta slipped away, and in that loss the worlds were preserved. Among them, the noble Ādiśeṣa, wearied of his mother’s wrath and his brothers’ misdeeds, departed in despair. He left them behind, mounting Gandhamādana and wandering to holy shrines—Gokarṇa, Puṣkara, and the heights of Himālaya—living an ascetic life devoted to Brahmā. There, after years of penance, Brahmā appeared before him and offered to grant a boon.
“O Lord,” said Śeṣa, “my mother and brothers have plunged into envy and violence. They robbed my aunt of her liberty, cast Garuḍa into bondage, and ceaselessly harm others. I abhor their deeds and have abandoned them. In despair I resolved to quit this earth, fasting in penance.” Brahmā, pleased with Śeṣa’s purity, replied: “Steadfast are you in dharma and truth, O king of serpents. None but you can endure what others cannot. Bear the ever-growing weight of the earth and safeguard it. And mark this: Vinatā’s son Garuḍa, noble and fearless, blessed by Kaśyapa and the Vālakhilyas, has vanquished Indra himself and is praised by the gods. Form true alliance with him, for together you serve the order of the universe.” Thus commanded, Śeṣa took upon himself the burden of the earth and established harmony with Garuḍa.
Meanwhile, Vasuki, lord of serpents, foresaw peril in the forthcoming Sarpa-yajña of King Janamejaya, destined to consume his race. In council with his kin he declared, “Śeṣa, by Brahmā’s grace, is bound to the earth and allied with gods and noble souls. He will not hazard himself for us. Yet I, having served as the churning rope of Mandara in the Ocean of Milk, have earned the favor of both gods and demons, and Brahmā has assured me of safety from curse or harm. Still, my mother’s curse threatens ruin to our kind. Tell me, what may be done to save the serpent race?”
The younger serpents, puffed with pride, urged deceit: “Let us obstruct the sacrifice. We shall persuade Janamejaya, disguised as Brahmins, by bribing his counselors, tainting the food of guests, and frightening them into retreat.” But Vasuki rebuked them: “Know you not the power of sacrifice? The mantras uttered by sages kindle flames that consume their targets. Your scheme is folly.” Then Vasuki’s youngest brother, Āilaputra, spoke: “I overheard, while in our mother’s lap, Brahmā’s words to the gods. When Kadru in rage cursed her children, the gods appealed to Brahmā for release. He answered that the cruel serpents, a burden to earth, must perish; yet those of divine nature shall be saved. One shall deliver us—Astīka, son of Jaratkāru and Vasuki’s sister.” The serpents rejoiced at this hidden hope and blessed the name of their youngest brother. Vasuki from then awaited the birth of Jaratkāru.
Now Jaratkāru, sage of the Yayāvara line, pure in celibacy and detached from worldly ties, wandered in penance, chanting hymns, performing rites, and discharging the debts owed to ancestors. One day he came upon a pond, foul and stagnant. In a corner grew withered grass whose frail roots held a few sages dangling upside down. A rat gnawed the roots, and the sages, in misery, cried out. “Who are you?” he asked. They replied, “We are your ancestors. Our last descendant, Jaratkāru, refuses marriage, and so our line decays. The pond is our hell, the root our dwindling lineage, the rat Yama devouring our last hope. Without children to continue our name, we fall into darkness.”
Moved with compassion, the sage revealed, “I am Jaratkāru, your descendant. I vowed to shun family ties, yet seeing your plight, I resolve to marry and preserve our line.” The ancestors rejoiced, blessing him with gratitude. For though a man live in virtue and ritual, without progeny his duty to his lineage remains unfulfilled. Thus, Jaratkāru outlined in search of a bride bearing his own name, but found none to his liking.
Vasuki, ever vigilant, came forward with his sister, herself named Jaratkāru. “O noble sage,” he said, “your vow shall be fulfilled. Take my sister, pure and devoted, as your wife. Thus, our lineages unite in dharma.” The sage consented, marrying her in sacred rite, though he set one stern condition: “If ever you belittle me, I shall leave you and return to ascetic life.” She, devoted and cautious, served him with reverence.
One evening, while he slept with his head in her lap, she saw the sun sinking and sages hastening to offer their evening oblations. Fearing that neglect of ritual would taint her husband’s austerity, she chose to wake him, though dreading his anger. He opened his eyes and said: “I was not asleep but dwelling in higher consciousness. By disturbing me, you have demonstrated a lack of trust in my vigilance. This is an insult, and I cannot remain.” Yet he added, “Fear not. The child you bear will shine like the sun, destined to free both our lineages and save the serpent race.” With those words, he departed.
In time, Vasuki’s sister bore a radiant son, Astīka, blazing like fire and free of sin. Trained by the sage Pramati of Bhṛgu’s line, he mastered the Vedas and sacred sciences, growing in virtue, wisdom, and strength of spirit. In him lay the power to restrain the doom of the serpent race and to fulfill the will of the gods.
