King Paushya shook his head.
“I cannot take back my curse, even if I wish to,” he said. “My anger has not yet cooled. Surely you know this:
A Brahmin’s heart is as soft as butter, though his words may cut like a razor. A Kshatriya is the opposite. His words are gentle and smooth, but his heart can be as hard and sharp as a blade.
That is why I cannot withdraw my curse. My heart is still filled with anger. You may go now.”
Utaṅka replied calmly, “I pointed out that the food served to me was impure, and after seeing the truth, you sought to make peace with me. Before that, you declared that I would remain childless because I had falsely accused pure food of being unclean.
But the food truly was impure. Therefore, your curse will have no effect upon me.”
With that, the matter was settled. Taking the precious earrings, Utaṅka departed.
As he journeyed onward, he noticed a strange naked ascetic approaching along the road. The man appeared and disappeared again and again, as though he were a mirage. Finding the sight curious, Utaṅka set the earrings on the ground and went to fetch some water.
The moment he turned away, the mysterious ascetic rushed forward, snatched up the earrings, and fled.
Utaṅka instantly gave chase. He ran after the thief and managed to catch him. But in that very moment, the ascetic cast aside his disguise.
It was Takshaka, the mighty serpent king.
Before Utaṅka could fully react, Takshaka resumed his true form and plunged into a vast hole that suddenly opened in the earth.
Descending through the passage, Takshaka entered the realm of the Nagas and returned to his own palace.
Determined not to lose the earrings, Utaṅka followed him into the hole and entered the hidden world beneath the earth. There, surrounded by the serpent race, he began praising the Nagas with solemn verses:
“O serpents, noble subjects of King Airavata! You bring splendor to great assemblies and battles alike. Like storm clouds driven by mighty winds and flashing with lightning, you pour forth your power.
O descendants of Airavata! Some of you are beautiful, some fearsome in form. Adorned with multicolored ornaments, you shine across the heavens like the radiant sun itself.”
Utaṅka continued his praises, his voice echoing through the mysterious realm of the Nagas.
“Countless are the dwellings of the serpent race along the northern banks of the sacred Ganga. And who would dare march against the blazing army of the sun without the mighty Airavata at their side?
Whenever Dhritarashtra, lord of the Nagas, sets forth, twenty thousand serpents accompany him in glorious procession.
I bow to all the descendants of Airavata, whether they dwell close to him or in distant lands far beyond his sight.
For the sake of recovering these earrings, I offer my salutations to Takshaka, son of Kadru, who has long made his home in Kurukshetra and the forests of Khandava.
I honor Takshaka and his faithful companion Ashvasena, who once lived together along the banks of the river Ikshumati in Kurukshetra.
And I bow to the noble Shrutasena, the youngest brother of Takshaka, the great-souled serpent who dwelt in Mahadyumna, striving to rise among the foremost chiefs of the Naga race.”
Yet despite all his praises and salutations, the Nagas did not return the earrings.
As Utaṅka searched the strange subterranean world, his eyes fell upon a remarkable sight.
Two women sat before a loom, weaving a vast cloth. Their hands moved with perfect rhythm, guiding threads back and forth through the fabric. Some of the threads were black, while others were white, and together they formed an intricate pattern whose meaning Utaṅka could not immediately grasp.
Nearby stood a great wheel. Six young boys turned it without pause, keeping it in constant motion. The wheel itself was enormous, and it seemed to revolve according to some hidden cosmic order.
Beside them stood a handsome and radiant man whose appearance inspired both wonder and reverence.
Sensing that these beings were no ordinary inhabitants of the Naga world, Utaṅka offered them praise through sacred hymns.
He spoke:
“Behold this wheel with its three hundred and sixty spokes. Ever fixed in its course, it moves ceaselessly through twenty-four divisions. Six youths stand around it, turning it endlessly as it revolves through the cycle of time.”
The radiant man listened to Utaṅka's hymn and smiled.
Before him, the two mysterious women continued their endless work. They wove a vast cloth that seemed to contain the entire universe within its threads. Black and white strands crossed and intertwined without cease, creating and recreating worlds, beings, days and nights, life and death in an eternal pattern.
Utaṅka's voice rose again in praise.
“O wielder of the thunderbolt! Protector of the worlds! Slayer of Vritra and destroyer of Namuci! O great lord clothed in dark garments, who reveals truth and falsehood among all living beings!
I bow to you who long ago gained as your mount the divine horse born from the depths of the cosmic waters, a manifestation of the sacred fire itself. I offer my eternal salutations to you, Lord of the Universe, ruler of the three worlds, mighty Purandara!”
The handsome figure was pleased.
“I am delighted by your praise,” he said. “Tell me, what do you desire? What favor shall I grant you?”
Without hesitation, Utaṅka replied, “Let the serpent race come under my power.”
The mysterious man nodded.
“Then blow into this horse,” he said.
Though the command seemed strange, Utaṅka obeyed. He approached the horse and blew into it as instructed.
At once, a terrifying miracle occurred.
From every opening of the horse's body burst blazing flames and thick clouds of smoke. Fire roared forth in all directions, spreading through the realm of the Nagas like a raging inferno.
The underground world filled with heat and choking smoke.
Panic swept through the serpent kingdom.
The Nagas fled in terror, and even Takshaka was overcome with fear. Realizing that the fire could consume his entire realm, he abandoned all resistance.
Clutching the stolen earrings, he rushed out of his palace and hurried to Utaṅka.
“Please,” Takshaka cried, holding out the jewels. “Take back your earrings.”
Utaṅka accepted them at once.
His mission had finally succeeded.
But as soon as he recovered the earrings, another worry struck him.
He stood silently, deep in thought.
“Today is the sacred day appointed by my teacher's wife,” he thought. “This is the very day I promised to bring her these earrings. Yet I have traveled far into the hidden realm of the Nagas, deep beneath the earth.
How can I possibly return in time?”
For the first time since recovering the earrings, anxiety gripped his heart. The task was not truly complete until the earrings were safely delivered. And the appointed day was already slipping away.