The illustrious mother gently reassured her son, saying, “I will show myself there as I wish, so be at ease.” With the coming of dawn, as the golden sun rose, the two sisters Kadru and Vinata, daughters of Daksha, awoke. Their hearts burned with resentment and anger, for they had made a wager of servitude with one another. Determined to settle their bet, they went together to see the celestial horse Ucchaihshravas, who stood near the farthest shore, where the sandbanks gleamed. As they approached, the sisters beheld the mighty ocean—a vast, deep, and resounding expanse, the treasury of all waters. Its surface was alive with movement, filled with timi and makara, giant fish, and countless other wondrous creatures of all shapes and forms. Terrifying and deformed beings dwelled within, fierce and unassailable, along with multitudes of turtles and crocodiles. The ocean was a mine of all jewels, the sacred abode of Varuna, a delightful home for the serpents, and the supreme lord of all rivers. This was the dwelling of the netherworld’s fire, the kin of the asuras, and a terror to all living beings. It was a splendid and divine realm, a gathering place for immortals, the very source of nectar—immeasurable, inconceivable, and supremely pure in its waters. The ocean’s depths resounded with the dreadful cries of aquatic beings, its whirlpools and fearsome sounds striking terror into all creatures. The wind stirred the surface, making the ocean sway at the shore like a swing, its waves rising high in tumult and agitation, dancing everywhere with restless hands. The waxing and waning of the moon sent surging waves across its breadth, and within this peerless ocean was born the conch Pāñcajanya. In ages past, when blessed Govinda, the mighty Vishnu, took the form of a Boar to seek the Earth, the ocean’s waters were disturbed and muddied. Even the great sage Atri, steadfast in his vows, could not fathom the unfathomable netherworld for a hundred years. The ocean served the yoga-nidra of Padmanabha, the Lord who lies at the beginning of the ages, for Vishnu of boundless energy dwelled there. It was the refuge of Mainaka, who was saved from Indra’s thunderbolt, and the sanctuary for asuras fleeing the arms of Dimbaha. The ocean, lord of rivers, was the sacred offering to the blazing fire at the mouth of Baḍavā, unfathomable, vast, and immeasurable. Kadru and Vinata saw this great ocean, ever being filled by thousands of mighty rivers, as if they were all competing to pour their waters into its depths. The waves danced with joy, and the ocean shone vast and endless, filled with whales and makaras, roaring with the dreadful cries of its denizens, and gleaming as bright as the sky. Meanwhile, the Nāgas, the serpent-sons of Kadru, gathered together and spoke among themselves: “A mother without affection burns, if her desire is not fulfilled. If she is pleased, O beautiful ones, she will release us from this curse. Therefore, let us make the horse’s tail appear black, without doubt.” So resolved, the Nāgas took their places, resembling the black hairs of the horse’s tail. At that moment, the two co-wives, Kadru and Vinata, arrived at the shore and renewed their wager. Full of anticipation, the sisters soared through the sky, gazing down upon the unshakable ocean, its surface a treasure of waters. The wind whipped the ocean into a frenzy, its great sound echoing, as whales, giant fish, and makaras filled its depths. The ocean teemed with countless, diverse, and dreadful beings, unassailable and terrifying. It was the source of all gems, the abode of Varuna, the dwelling of the Nāgas, and the lord of rivers. It was also the home of the netherworld’s fire, the asuras, and other fearsome beings—a limitless treasury of waters, radiant and divine, the source of immortality for the gods, supreme and immeasurable. Here, countless great rivers poured in their waters, their waves dancing in joy. The ocean’s surging waves shone like the open sky, its depths illuminated by the fires below, and its roar echoed as the sisters approached. Together, Kadru and Vinata crossed the ocean, and Kadru swiftly descended near the horse, as if in the blink of an eye. There they saw Ucchaihshravas, the best of horses, swift and shining like the rays of the moon, his manes dark as time itself. At the root of his tail, they saw many black hairs. Seeing this, Kadru triumphed and, making Vinata despondent, bound her sister to servitude. Thus, Vinata, defeated by the wager, was overcome with sorrow and became a servant to Kadru. Yet, in the course of time, the egg of Vinata hatched, and Garuda, radiant and powerful, was born—breaking forth from the shell without his mother’s aid. Endowed with immense strength and power, Garuda illuminated all directions. He could assume any form, travel anywhere, and act at will. He shone like a mass of blazing fire, fearsome and resplendent, his eyes bright as lightning, his radiance rivaling the fire at the end of an age. Suddenly grown, the great-bodied Garuda soared into the sky with a terrifying roar, fierce like the submarine fire itself. At the sight of him, all the gods, struck with awe and fear, sought refuge with Agni, the fire god, and bowing, they addressed him, who sat there in universal form.