"Just tell me that you do not owwe me anything more and I will let you free as a free man."
"How can I say that? I still owe you money," Harischandra pointed out.
"So you want to be my slave?" asked the creditor.
"Yes, sir. I beg of you. Please take me as your slave," said the debtor Harischandra.
"I agree. Now that you are my slave, I discharge you from the debt. But I am selling you right now to this cemetery-keeper for the sum he has offered."
The executioner was happy that he got the slave he had bargained for. He paid the money to Viswamitra and led Harischandra away to his house near the cemetery.
Harischandra's job at the cemetery was to collect for his master the cemetery fees from those coming to bury or burn the dead and to gather the discarded clothes of the corpses.
"Stay on this burial ground night and day and watch out for the corpses to arrive. Collect the fees strictly from everyone. Divide the collection into six parts; one part is for the king, three parts are for me; two parts will be your wages. You are also to execute the criminals condemned to death."
Harischandra worked for 12 months in this job. He was loyal to his master. His appearance was slowly changing like his master; with dishevelled hair, shoddy beard, emaciated and with protruding bones from his chest. He heard the crackling sounds of the burning faggots on the funeral pyres and howling of the jackals. He was frequently reminding himself of his wife and son and would often join the lamenting funeral parties and join in the loud lamentations remembering the dead. He reassured himself that he had done the right thing to avoid being untruthful and to avoid being unfaithful. He reminded himself of his priest Vasishta's saying that Dharma was the only light that mortals had on earth and everything else was illusion caused by ajnaana (ignorance). He had to walk by this light wherever it led him. He had to do his duty by the light whether he was the king of solar ancestry or as the assistant keeper of the Varanasi cemetery. It was not for him to choose.
A year passed by. One night, a ragged and destitute woman brought to the burning ground her own arms the body of her son. He was a small boy. He had died of snake-bite. She had also brought with her a bundle of sticks for the funeral pyre. Harischandra demanded of her the prescribed fees for the cremation. She pleaded with him that she was a destitute and could not pay. Harischandra refused to prepare for the cremation. He said that he could exempt his own share but he had to collect at least the king's share and his master's share of the fees. He saw a little jewel of gold hanging from her neck, mostly hidden by her ragged clothes and suggested that this be sold to pay the reduced fees he was demanding. On hearing this, the woman started crying, "O gods, what sins have I committed that the sacred symbol of my marriage which till now was visible only to my husband should be seen my the cemetery assistant/"
Harischandra was startled. He peered into the face through the enveloping darkness and asked, "Who was your husband?" She replied, sobbing, "My husband was once a king, a cruel creditor had forced him to sell her and her their son in the market of Varanasi." Harischandra saw what he was upto and fell on the dead body, crying, "O"
