After the gods had achieved victory in their great endeavor, they respectfully restored Mandara, the mighty mountain, to its rightful place. The heavens echoed with thunderous sounds as the clouds that had gathered for the churning dispersed, returning to where they had come from. The gods, elated with abundant joy, took great care to secure the precious nectar of immortality—amrita. They entrusted this supreme treasure to the crowned one, the slayer of Bala, asking him to guard it faithfully with the other immortals. Thus, I have recounted to you the tale of how the nectar was churned from the ocean, and how, in that wondrous event, the peerless horse Ucchaihshravas was born. Shortly thereafter, Kadru, upon seeing this magnificent horse, turned to her sister Vinata and said, “Tell me quickly, dear one, what is the color of Ucchaihshravas?” Vinata replied, “This king of horses is surely white—or what do you think, lovely one? Tell me its color too, and then let us make a wager on it.” Kadru, smiling, responded, “I think this horse is black-maned, O fair-smiling one. Come, let us wager together, and the loser shall become the other’s servant, O beautiful lady.” Having agreed upon these terms—that the loser would serve the winner—they both returned to their homes, saying, “Tomorrow we shall see.” However, Kadru, determined to win the wager, called upon her thousand sons, the serpents, and commanded them to become the black hairs of the horse’s mane. “Quickly enter the horse, so that I may not become a servant,” she urged. Those serpents who refused to obey her were cursed by Kadru: “During the snake-sacrifice, fire will consume you all at the hands of Janamejaya, the wise royal sage descended from the Pandavas.” Brahma himself heard this harsh curse uttered by Kadru. Recognizing it as divinely ordained, he, along with all the gods, approved her words, seeing it as necessary for the welfare of living beings and mindful of the growing multitude of serpents. These serpents were mighty, fierce in strength and venom, and their sharp poison threatened other creatures. For the protection of the world, a measure was set for them and for all beings intent on wrongdoing: death would come to them by divine law as punishment. Having spoken thus, the great god honored Kadru and summoned Kasyapa, their father. He addressed him, “These snakes and serpents have been born from you, O sinless one. Endowed with venom, possessing great power, and now cursed by their mother, O scorcher of foes, you should not be angered by this. This destruction of the snakes by sacrifice has long been foreseen.” The creator god, pleased with Kasyapa, then bestowed upon him the knowledge that removes poison. When the serpents were thus cursed, Karkotaka, undisturbed by the fate declared, approached his mother Kadru. The best of serpents, greatly pleased, said to her, “I will enter the chief horse, becoming a black-maned child, my body shining like collyrium. I will show myself there as I wish, so be at ease.” Kadru, reassured, replied affectionately to her son. With the night passed and the sun rising, Kadru and Vinata, both resentful and greatly agitated by their wager, set out to see Ucchaihshravas, the king of horses, near the farthest shore adorned with sandbanks. There, they beheld the vast and resounding ocean, the treasury of all waters—deep, agitated, and filled with timi, makara, and giant fish, crowded with thousands of creatures of various forms. The ocean teemed with terrifying, deformed, and dreadful aquatic beings—turtles, crocodiles, and other fierce, unassailable creatures. This was the mine of all jewels, the abode of Varuna, the delightful home of serpents, the supreme lord of rivers. It was the dwelling of the fire of the netherworld, kin to the asuras, a terror to living beings. The ocean was a splendid, divine place for immortals, the supreme source of nectar, immeasurable, inconceivable, filled with supremely pure waters—wondrous to behold. The cries of aquatic beings echoed terribly; dreadful sounds filled the air, and deep whirlpools made the ocean frightening to all creatures. Stirred by the wind, the ocean’s waves swayed like a swing at the shore, rising high with agitation, dancing as if with restless hands. The waxing and waning of the moon filled the ocean with surging waves; this peerless ocean was the birthplace of Pāñcajanya. When the blessed Govinda, of immeasurable might, took the form of a Boar to seek the Earth, the waters within the ocean were disturbed and muddied. Even the sage Atri, steadfast in his vows, could not reach the unfathomable, imperishable netherworld for a hundred years. Within this ocean, Viṣṇu of boundless energy served the yoga-nidra of Padmanābha, who lies at the beginning of the ages. The ocean granted safety to Maināka, frightened by the thunderbolt, and sheltered the Asuras struck by the arms of Dimbāha. This lord of rivers was the sacred offering to the blazing fire at the mouth of Baḍavā—unfathomable, vast, and immeasurable. Ever being filled by thousands of mighty rivers, the ocean seemed to dance with its waves, as if in competition. Kadru and Vinata gazed upon the deep, immeasurable, and endless ocean, filled with whales and makaras, roaring with the dreadful cries of aquatic creatures, vast and shining like the sky. Meanwhile, the Nāgas, having conferred together, reflected, “A mother without affection burns, if her desire is not fulfilled.