You are Viṣṇu, the thousand-eyed, the supreme god, the highest refuge of all. You are the very essence of immortality, O divine one, and you are Soma, the most exalted among those who are worshipped. You are the measure of time itself—the moment, the lunar day, the instant, and the second. You embody the bright and dark fortnights, every division and fraction of time, the year, the seasons, the months, the nights, and the days. You are the highest earth, crowned with mountains and forests; you are the ground, illuminated by the sun, and the sky, free from darkness. You are the ocean, home to mighty, intoxicated whales, surging waves, countless crocodiles, and a multitude of fish. O renowned one, the wise and the great sages, with hearts filled with joy, always worship you. Praised in sacrifice, you drink the Soma and partake of the offerings prepared for all beings. Here, the Brahmins worship you constantly, seeking the fruits of their rites. You, of immeasurable strength, are sung in the Vedas and their branches. For your sake, the foremost twice-born, devoted to sacrifice, strive with all their effort to approach the Vedas and their limbs. Thus, when Kadrū had praised him with these words, the blessed lord—Viṣṇu, the bearer of the discus—covered the entire sky with dense, dark clouds. He commanded the clouds, "Rain down auspicious nectar!" At his command, the clouds, shining with lightning, poured forth abundant water. The sky thundered without pause, the clouds contending with each other, wondrous and immense, making the heavens appear as if they were dissolving. With great roaring, they poured incomparable, ceaseless water, so that the sky seemed to dance with countless streams and waves. Thunder boomed, lightning flashed, and winds shook the clouds, which rained without ceasing. With the sun and moon’s rays hidden, the sky became dark, and the best of the serpents rejoiced as Indra poured down the rain. The earth was flooded everywhere with cool, pure water, reaching even to the netherworld. Waves of water covered the land, and together with their mother, the serpents emerged, seeking beauty. Drenched with streaming water and filled with delight, the serpents were then swiftly carried by Suparṇa, the mighty Garuḍa, to an island. This island, inhabited by makaras and crafted by Viśvakarman, was the first place the serpents reached, but there they encountered dreadful salt. Yet, as they journeyed with Suparṇa, they saw a charming forest encircled by ocean waters, resounding with the calls of many birds. The island was covered with rows of marvelous trees, heavy with wondrous fruits and flowers, adorned with splendid dwellings and lotus ponds. Clear waters and divine lakes embellished the land, and blessed breezes carried celestial fragrances. Malaya trees soared towards the sky, shedding showers of flowers scattered by the wind. Other trees, too, tossed their blossoms, showering the serpents with rain of flowers and water. The place delighted the mind, beloved of Gandharvas and Apsarases, humming with intoxicated bees and pleasing to behold. Charming, auspicious, and holy, it captivated all who saw it, filled with the songs of many birds, bringing joy to the sons of Kadru. Having reached this wondrous forest, the serpents rejoiced. They turned to Suparṇa, the mighty lord of birds, and said, "Carry us to another island, even more delightful, with pure waters. You, O sky-roamer, have seen many beautiful lands as you travel." Then Garuḍa, reflecting, spoke to his mother Vinatā: "Mother, why must I do as the serpents say?" Vinatā replied, "O best of birds, I have become a slave through misfortune and the deceit of my co-wife. The serpents tricked me with a false wager." When Garuḍa heard the reason, he was filled with sorrow and addressed the serpents: "Tell me, by bringing or knowing what, or by what act of valor, can I free my mother from slavery? Speak truly, O serpents." The serpents answered, "Bring us amṛta, the nectar of immortality, by your power, and then your mother will be freed from her bondage, O sky-roamer." Thus resolved, Garuḍa spoke to his mother: "I will go to bring the amṛta. But tell me, what food may I eat on the way?" Vinatā replied, "At the edge of the ocean’s depths lies the finest abode of the Nishadas; there are their dwellings. Thousands of Nishadas live there—sinful, lost to the world, merciless, and wicked. Consume them and then bring back the nectar. But, my son, never, under any circumstance, resolve to kill a Brahmana. The Brahmana is inviolable among all beings, without blemish. Fire, the sun, poison, and weapons—all become as a Brahmana when angered; the Brahmana is the teacher of all creatures. By such qualities the Brahmana is regarded by the virtuous; therefore, dear one, he must not be slain, even in anger, under any circumstances. Never commit an assault against Brahmanas; just as fire or the sun would not burn the innocent, so too must you refrain. "You must learn to recognize a Brahmana. When enraged, a Brahmana of firm vows will show certain signs—by these you may know the excellent twice-born. The Brahmana is the foremost among beings, the highest among castes, the father, and the teacher. But tell me, how will I recognize a Brahmana? Who shines like fire? Who displays gentle demeanor? By what auspicious marks may I know him?