During the reign of King Janamejaya, there lived a sage of great austerity and unusual powers, Udanka by name, disciple of the noble Paila, who himself belonged to the line of Vyasa’s hermitage. Once, at the behest of his preceptor, Udanka set forth to the court of King Poushya to obtain from the queen a pair of divine ear-rings, destined to be worn by his guru’s wife during a sacred rite in honor of Goddess Parvati. On his way he encountered a wondrous figure riding upon a bull, who instructed him to consume the bull’s dung. Without hesitation, the sage obeyed, for he recognized the command as no ordinary counsel.
Having thus purified himself, Udanka entered the presence of King Poushya, blessed him, and declared his purpose. The king, delighted to serve the cause of so venerable a saint, directed him towards the queen. Yet the sage found her not, and reported the matter. Poushya then explained that his queen ever abides under the protection of the Goddess, and must be invoked with a pure and single-hearted prayer. Udanka complied and was at last granted audience. The queen, radiant with grace, delivered to him the celestial ear-rings, cautioning him of the serpent-king Takshaka, who coveted them with fierce desire. She warned that once the jewel fell into his hands, no mortal could retrieve it. Udanka vowed vigilance, placed the jewels securely in his waistband, and sought to take leave of the king.
Poushya, in courtesy, invited the sage to dine. Udanka accepted, and having performed the due oblations to gods and ancestors, began to partake. Yet as he ate, he found a strand of hair in the rice and, incensed at the defilement, uttered a curse upon the king, condemning him to instant blindness. Poushya protested the severity of such wrath for the slight fault of a careless cook and returned the curse upon Udanka. Realizing the calamity, Udanka pleaded that if he remained childless through such a fate, the souls of his forebears would find no redemption. Then Poushya declared that a Brahmin’s words, sharp as Indra’s thunderbolt, could indeed be recalled, but a king’s word, once uttered, was as immovable as the mountain. Yet out of compassion, he foretold that Udanka’s blindness would endure but a brief span, and would soon be lifted. With this reconciliation, Udanka resumed his journey.
As the sun declined, he paused by a lake to bathe and perform his evening rites, laying the ear-rings upon an elevated spot. Takshaka, ever watchful, seized the moment and snatched the treasure away. Realizing the theft, Udanka pursued the serpent into the subterranean realms of the Nagas. There, with fervent prayers, he extolled the mighty serpent-kings—Ananta, the eternal support of Vishnu, Vasuki, the living garland of Shiva, and all the radiant clans of serpents who dwell in forest, mountain, and ocean. Yet Takshaka yielded not.
Deeper into the earth Udanka pressed, until he beheld two maidens weaving a cloth with black and white threads upon a wheel of twelve spokes, turned by six radiant youths. He also beheld a blazing horse upon which sat a resplendent divine being. Udanka bowed with Vedic hymns, and the deity, pleased by his devotion, instructed him to blow into the horse’s ear. When Udanka obeyed, the horse belched forth a fire that raged through the serpent world. Alarmed, Takshaka surrendered the ear-rings and begged forgiveness.
But time had slipped away—four days since Udanka’s departure, and that very day the sacred rite was to be performed. In despair, he wondered how he might arrive in time. The divine being, moved by his plight, offered him the celestial horse, swifter than wind or thought. Mounting it, Udanka sped through the skies and reached his master’s hermitage in an instant. The guru’s wife, adorned with the jewels, performed the rite to Parvati and blessed Udanka for his steadfast duty.
When Udanka recounted his adventures, Paila revealed the mystery of his visions. The man on the bull was Indra, and the bull itself none other than the celestial elephant Airavata. The dung he consumed was sacred ambrosia. The maidens weaving black and white threads were Dhata and Vidhata, spinning day and night upon the loom of time. The twelve spokes were the months of the year, the six boys the six seasons—Vasanta, Grishma, Varsha, Sharad, Hemanta, and Shishira. The horse was Agni, fire itself, and its divine rider Parjanya, the counterpart of Indra. Thus, by the grace of gods and his own devotion, Udanka fulfilled his guru’s command and was freed of his debt.
Yet in his heart, the insult of Takshaka rankled. He went before King Janamejaya and spoke: “O king, protector of truth and redeemer of the afflicted, my sacred duty was hindered by the serpent Takshaka, who not only opposed me but once brought about the death of your noble sire, King Parikshit, with his venomous bite. Though provoked by the curse of a Brahmin’s son, Takshaka wrought destruction with cruel delight, drowning your line in grief. It is a son’s bounden duty to avenge his father. Therefore, I counsel you—perform a mighty Sarpa-Yajna, a sacrifice that shall consume the serpent race and destroy your enemy utterly.”
Thus, it was that Udanka’s words kindled in King Janamejaya the resolve to begin the dreadful rite against the Nagas, as later narrated by Ugrasrava to the sages of Naimisha forest.
