How To Stop The Sarpa Yajna From Taking Place?

Once, in the womb of cosmic silence, something terrible echoed — a mother's curse.

Kadru, the mother of serpents, turned her wrath upon her own children. When her sons refused to join her in a cruel deceit against her sister Vinata, she, in a moment of fury, damned them to die — not slowly, not in some unknown battle, but in blazing yajna fire. A curse, not whispered in the dark, but thundered in Brahma’s own presence.

Some serpents, like Karkotaka, bowed before her will. But others — especially the eldest, Adishesha — recoiled not in fear, but in moral disgust. He renounced them all. He turned his hood away from petty scheming and embraced penance instead. His body withered under the sun, his breath dissolved into the wind. Finally, appeasing Brahma with his tapas, he descended into Patala, where he became the very pillar beneath the trembling Earth.

And in his absence, Vasuki took the crown — not just of serpents, but of a cursed clan walking on the edge of extinction.

But this was not an ordinary calamity.
This was matru-shapa — a mother’s curse — unbreakable even by the gods.

Vasuki, heavy with responsibility and fear, called forth a gathering.
Not of warriors.
Not of venom-spitters.
But of the wise.
The ancient.
The luminous serpents — those we still worship in naga temples, in Ashlesha-bali, in Sarpa-samskaras.

He looked into their eyes — not as a king, but as a helpless brother.

'The curse is real,' he said, voice low like thunder wrapped in sorrow.
'Mother damned us in front of Brahma... and he let her. That silence from the Creator hurts more than her words.
Did we truly err? Was dissent such a crime?
But this is not the hour for wounds.
This is the time to think.
If fire is coming for us, let us become the wind that redirects it.
Even Agni once fled from the Devas and hid in a hollow — until they found him.
Effort can bend fate.
Let us find a way. Together.'

The air grew tense.
Ideas slithered out — dark, desperate, dangerous.

One said,
'We shall disguise ourselves as brahmins, seek bhiksha from Janamejaya, the Pandava king set to perform the Sarpa Yajna. And what shall we ask? Not gold. Not grain. Just this — stop the yajna. He cannot refuse a brahmin’s wish.'

Another said,
'Let us become his ministers. Win his trust. When the moment comes, counsel him against it — warn him of spiritual ruin and eternal consequence.'

A darker voice whispered,
'If the yajna begins, kill the acharya. The rite will collapse. Only a handful alive know how to conduct a sarpa-yajna. Without the knower, the fire cannot proceed.'

And yet another — darker still — hissed,
'Let us kill all the ritwiks. Let the vedi become their funeral pyre.'

There was silence.
Not fear. Not outrage. But the trembling pause before a dharma-shaking quake.

The elders rose.

'This is adharma. Even a serpent must never strike a brahma-jñani. To kill a teacher is to kill the light of the world. What victory lies in surviving as a sinner? Only dharma can undo a curse rooted in adharma. If we defecate on yajna utensils, if we storm the vedi like beasts — we may save our bodies, but we shall lose our souls.'

But the storm of voices wouldn’t end.
'Let us turn to rain — flood the fire before it rises.'
'Let us steal every ritual item.'
'Let us disguise as priests and demand a dakshina so great Janamejaya must abandon the rite!'
One hissed,
'Why not kill Janamejaya himself? He wants our blood. Why not strike first? There is no sin in self-defense.'

The hall fell still.
All eyes turned to Vasuki.
The one with the crown, and the weight of extinction on his head.

He raised his hood, but not with pride — with prayer.

'None of this will work,' he said. 'This curse is not of man. It is not worldly. It is divine. And only the divine can undo it. No trick, no weapon, no disguise will shield us from fate’s fire. We need intervention — not rebellion.'

Just then, a quiet voice rose from the corner — Elapatra, the serpent of secret knowledge.

He slithered forward, not with venom but with memory.

'I must speak. On the day of the curse, I was terrified. I climbed into our mother’s lap. I hid there. And I heard something...
Brahma was questioned by the Devas — "Why did you permit such a terrible curse?"

And Brahma said —
"Poison flows uncontrolled. Snakes kill without reason. They breed without limit. They strike even when unprovoked. This yajna will bring balance. Rather than hunting down the cruel ones one by one, the Sarpa Yajna shall summon them through mantra and burn them in sacred fire. Let the poison perish. But... the virtuous serpents shall remain untouched. Provision has been made.

Jaratakaru, Vasuki’s own sister, will marry a sage of the same name. Their son will rise — a knower of mantras, a breaker of fate — and he shall stop the yajna at the right time."

The devas were satisfied. They returned to Swarga. That is what I heard.'

A silence like dawn fell over the gathering.

Vasuki breathed in — not relief, but resolve.

'Then so be it. The answer lies not in bloodshed, but in union.
Let us search for Muni Jaratakaru.
Let my sister marry him.
Let the womb of dharma give birth to our deliverance.
If the fire is fated, let it come.
But let truth rise like a shield before it.'

And thus began a new mission —
Not of venom, not of vengeance… but of hope wrapped in dharma.ika?

Ramaswamy Sastry and Vighnesh Ghanapaathi