The Boy at the Sacrificial Post

When the sages left the sacrifice of Triśaṅku, Viśvāmitra said to the forest dwellers, All this has been a great obstacle to our austerity here in the south. Let us go to another quarter. In the west, at Puṣkara, there is a fine forest for austerity. And he went to Puṣkara and practised fierce austerity there, living on roots and fruit.

At that time King Ambarīṣa of Ayodhyā was holding a great sacrifice, and Indra stole the animal meant for it. The priest told the king that a lost victim brought ruin on a king who failed to guard it, and that he must find another, or a man in its place. The king searched through many lands, ready to pay thousands of cows, and at last found the sage Ṛcīka on the peak called Bhṛgutuṅga with his wife, Viśvāmitra's sister, and their sons. Sell me one of your sons for a hundred thousand cows, the king said. Ṛcīka said he would never sell his eldest son. His wife said the youngest, Śunaka, was dearest to her, since fathers love the eldest best and mothers the youngest. Then the middle son, Śunaḥśepa, spoke for himself. My father says the eldest may not be sold, and my mother says the youngest. I think the middle son is the one for sale. Take me, king. And the king paid the hundred thousand cows and drove off with him.

At midday the king stopped to rest at Puṣkara, and Śunaḥśepa wandered into the grove and saw Viśvāmitra, his mother's brother, practising austerities with the sages. Pale, worn out with thirst and weariness, the boy fell into his lap. I have no mother and no father, he said, and no kin. Protect me by dharma, best of sages. Let the king's purpose be fulfilled, and let me live long and reach heaven after great austerity. Be a refuge to me who have none, as a father to his son.

Viśvāmitra comforted him and turned to his own sons. This is the very reason fathers have sons, he said, for good in the next world. This boy, a sage's son, asks me for protection. Save his life. All of you do good and keep dharma. Go as the king's offering and satisfy the fire. Then Śunaḥśepa will have a protector, the sacrifice will go on, the gods will be satisfied, and my word will be kept.

Madhuṣyanda and his brothers answered him with scorn. How can you give up your own sons to save another man's? they said. To us that is as wrong as eating dog's meat. Viśvāmitra's eyes went red with anger. You have spoken shamelessly against dharma, he said, and against my command. You will wander the earth for a full thousand years, living on dog's flesh. Then he turned to the frightened boy and spoke a blessing of protection over him. When you are bound to the post with sacred cords and red garlands and unguents, he said, praise Agni, the fire, and sing these two divine verses at the king's sacrifice, and you will have what you seek.

Śunaḥśepa took the two verses to heart, and went to the king and said, Let us go to the sacrifice at once. The king was glad and went, and with the assembly's consent Śunaḥśepa was dressed in red and bound to the post as the victim. Bound there, he praised with the finest words the two gods, Indra and Viṣṇu, who was born as Indra's younger brother, and Indra, pleased with that secret hymn, spared him and gave him long life. The king completed his sacrifice, and Viśvāmitra went back to his austerities at Puṣkara, for a thousand years.