"My dear Kaushalya," began Dasharatha, "when I was young, I was very vain about my archery skills. I could hit a target unseen, only by hearing its sound. One fateful night, I was out hunting on the Sarayu riverbank. It was pitch dark, but I listened intently. Suddenly, I heard a gurgling sound. I thought it was an elephant drinking water and shot an arrow in the direction of the sound. Imagine my horror when I heard the yelp of a man. I went running and found a young man soaked in blood, with my arrow lodged in his chest.
"'O King, why have you shot me?' he asked bitterly. I explained that it had been a terrible accident.
"'My name is Shravanakumara,' he said. 'My blind parents are in that hut. They were thirsty and told me to fetch water for them. Take this pot of water to them, and do not say anything until their thirst is quenched. I am in intense pain due to this arrow. Please remove it.'
"As I removed the arrow from his chest, he looked at me and expired.
"I took the water pot and reached the hut's door. I saw Shravanakumara's parents—helpless, aged, and blind—waiting for their son. When I entered the hut, they thought their son had arrived.
"'Son, what took you so long?' they asked.
"Filled with guilt and shame, I was unable to speak. The blind couple then became suspicious. I prostrated myself before them and confessed that I had accidentally killed their son. Overwhelmed by this tragic news, the blind and elderly couple fell silent, tears streaming down their sightless eyes. I led them to the riverbank, where their son lay lifeless. They told me that their only reason for living was their beloved son, and that without him, their lives had no meaning.
"'Just as we are dying from the separation from our son, you too will die from the loss of your son,' they cursed me, and then burned themselves alive on their son's funeral pyre."