The tale begins in the aftermath of the great Kurukshetra War, in a world struggling to find its footing as the Dvapara Yuga transitioned into the darker age of Kali Yuga. King Parikshit, the grandson of Arjuna and the sole heir to the Kuru throne, reigned with justice and piety from the city of Hastinapura. However, destiny had a grim end prepared for the righteous monarch. While hunting in the deep forests, the king became weary and parched. He came upon the hermitage of a sage named Samika, who was deep in a vow of silence and meditation. When the sage did not respond to the king’s pleas for water, Parikshit, in a rare moment of frustrated hubris, picked up a dead snake with the tip of his bow and draped it around the neck of the silent ascetic. When Samika's son, the fiery-tempered Shringi, learned of this insult to his father, he uttered a terrible curse: within seven days, King Parikshit would die from the bite of the great serpent king Takshaka.
Despite the king’s efforts to protect himself by retreating to a high tower guarded by physicians and sorcerers, Takshaka proved to be a cunning adversary. On the seventh day, the Naga king disguised himself as a tiny worm inside a piece of fruit brought to the king. As the sun was setting, Parikshit took the fruit, and the worm transformed back into the massive, glittering form of Takshaka. With a single bite, the king was reduced to ashes, and the lineage of the Pandavas was left in the hands of his young son, Janamejaya. When Janamejaya came of age and learned the true circumstances of his father’s demise—not as a natural tragedy but as a result of a curse and the cold calculation of the Naga king—his grief transmuted into a cold, all-consuming fury. He summoned his ministers and priests, demanding a way to exact revenge not just on Takshaka, but on the entire race of serpents that inhabited the underworld and the forests.
The Brahmanas suggested the Sarpa Satra, a sacrifice so potent and ancient that it had never been fully enacted in the current age. It required the construction of a massive sacrificial altar at Takshashila, a city known for its learning and strategic importance. The ritual was designed to utilize the power of Vedic mantras to physically compel every snake on Earth and in the celestial realms to fly through the air and cast themselves into the sacrificial fire. Janamejaya, fueled by his vendetta, authorized the ritual, and the air of Takshashila soon became thick with the smoke of the sacred wood and the scent of burning flesh. The priests, dressed in black garments, began the rhythmic chanting of the Sarpa-mantras. The power of these vibrations was absolute; it acted like an invisible hook in the souls of the Nagas. From every corner of the world, snakes began to arrive. Small grass snakes, massive mountain pythons, and divine serpents with multiple hoods were seen falling like ribbons of colorful silk from the sky into the roaring orange heart of the pyre.
As the days passed, millions of snakes perished. The Naga race faced total extinction. Takshaka, sensing his end was near, fled to the kingdom of Indra, the King of the Gods, seeking asylum. Indra, pitying the serpent king, allowed Takshaka to wrap himself around the leg of his celestial throne, believing that no mortal priest would dare to summon the throne of the gods into a sacrificial fire. However, the priests of Janamejaya were relentless. When they realized Takshaka was being shielded by Indra, they adjusted their mantras, chanting, 'If Takshaka is with Indra, then let Takshaka fall into the fire along with Indra and his entire throne.' The cosmic weight of the ritual was so great that the very heavens began to tilt. Indra’s throne began to descend from the celestial realm, dragging the panicked god and the trembling serpent king toward the sacrificial pits of Takshashila.