Have you read the first part of this story yet? Kali Yuga’s Silver Lining
Hunger and anger
The hunting trip had started well—on the royal chariot accompanied by ministers, soldiers, and servants, the whole entourage. But somewhere along the way deep into the forest, each one had inadvertently gone their own way. With only his bow and arrow for company, King Parikshit was left all by himself, and he was hungry. Very hungry.
He walked—as quickly as his fatigue allowed him—in search of some traces of human inhabitation. At last, the famished king stumbled upon a serene hermitage and spotted a sage seated in deep meditation. Parikshit’s dry throat cracked in dehydration even as he asked the sage for some water. The king tried calling again and again, but there was no response. Although the sage was physically in the hermitage, he was immersed in his own spiritual and transcendental state.
But Parikshit’s hunger and thirst increased by the second. He was now convinced the sage was pretending to not hear him. At that moment, the king couldn’t believe that anyone would be so unaware of their physical surroundings. Parikshit was done waiting. In a fit of rage fueled by hunger, he picked up a dead snake lying nearby with the tip of his arrow. He draped the snake around the sage’s neck and stormed out of the hermitage.
Cursed by the sage’s son
At another side of the hermitage, Sage Shamika’s son Shringi was playing with his friends.
“Do you know what just happened?” A friend came running in, eyes wide. “The king was here. You won’t believe what he did to your father.”
Shringi was outraged. Tears spilled from his eyes when he glimpsed the dead snake cast on his father’s shoulder. Shringi sharply inhaled and collected some water in his hands.
“In seven days from today, the poisonous snake Takshaka will bite and end the life of this evil King Parikshit who so terribly insulted my father.”
In his own time, Sage Shamika slowly opened his eyes. He didn’t even flinch when he saw the serpent lying on his neck. He simply picked it up and threw it aside. Shringi rushed to his father and spilled all that had unfolded. Expecting praise, the young boy explained how he cursed the king.
But Sage Shamika just shook his head. “How could you commit such a sinful act? Do you know what a righteous, devoted, and protective king we have? Cursing such a king—that too, with death—will throw our society into anarchy. This, my son, is why such power must not be entrusted to the young and immature. There’s not much we can do now. At the very least, send for someone to inform the king of his fate.”
Parikshit’s repentance
After finding his way to his palace, King Parikshit finally satisfied his hunger with a royal meal and set aside his gold crown. As soon as the golden seat of Kali was set aside, his mind returned to its familiar satvik state, and the events from earlier immediately played through. Parikshit gasped. What had he done? Had Lord Krishna saved him from the enemy when he was just an unborn child, only for him to insult a holy one for no reason? Parikshit’s grandfathers—the pandavas—were such noble people who had revered and protected the sages of the land. What had happened to him? Parikshit was too guilt-ridden to even glance at the traces of his own reflection on his shiny walls.
All of a sudden, a servant rushed to Parikshit’s chamber.
“Your majesty, a messenger from Sage Shamika is here to see you.”
Parikshit’s mouth fell open. “From Sage Shamika?” He stood up and started running to the palace entrance. “I must immediately go and receive him myself.”
The king himself welcomed the messenger with due respect. The sage’s messenger—forced to be the bearer of unpleasant tidings—broke the news about Parikshit’s impending death as pleasantly as humanly possible.
Parikshit, however, was not in the least sorrowful. Nor was he seeking a remedy for the curse. “Thank you,” the king said. “This is such good news. This is an opportunity for me to atone for my actions and give up my attachment to this fleeting material world.”
The messenger had to do a double take. This was after all the king who had furiously thrust a dead snake on a sage’s neck and left the scene. But most of all that had been due to Parikshit’s raging hunger and the influence of his Kali-embedded gold jewelry. Parikshit’s sense of morality was, in reality, so complex and developed.
That same day, he handed over his entire kingdom to his oldest son Janamejaya and departed for the banks of the Ganga River where he could spend his last seven days meditating on the Lord. That was where the great Sri Shuka unexpectedly graced Parikshit with his presence. For seven days straight until Parikshit ultimately attained liberation, Sri Shuka vibrantly narrated to the eager king the Srimad Bhagavatam—stories of the exalted devotees of the Lord—that is relished by many to this day.
This story is found in the first canto of the Srimad Bhagavatam.
