Once, there were two brothers named Supratika and Vibhavasu, who became deluded and separated from each other, each clinging to his own wealth and interests. Seeing their division, enemies disguised as friends took advantage, sowing discord and deepening the rift between them. As they grew more divided, others incited them further, until mutual conflict arose—such division, it is said, leads swiftly to utter destruction. The virtuous never praise the division of brothers, for it brings only ruin. Yet, despite being reminded of this truth, Supratika insisted, day and night, that their inheritance be divided. Pressed beyond endurance, Vibhavasu cursed his brother, saying, “For those who ignore the teachings of the elders and harbor suspicion against one another—” “You cannot be restrained, Supratika, since you desire wealth through division. Therefore, you shall obtain the form of an elephant.” Stung by the curse, Supratika retaliated. “And you, Vibhavasu, shall become a turtle, dwelling in the water.” Thus, blinded by greed and anger, the two brothers cursed each other, and were transformed—one into a mighty elephant, the other into a powerful turtle. Even as animals, the consequences of their anger and faults persisted. They remained locked in mutual hatred, each proud of his own strength. In a vast lake, both of enormous size, their ancient enmity continued. The illustrious Supratika, now an elephant, would approach the water, his mighty form looming. At the sound of his thunderous roar, the turtle Vibhavasu would rise from the depths, disturbing the entire lake with his great body. Seeing his adversary, the elephant, trunk coiled, would leap into the water, his tusks, trunk, tail, and feet thrashing with force. The elephant shook the lake, teeming with fish, while the turtle, head raised, emerged boldly for battle. The elephant stood six yojanas tall and twice as long; the turtle was three yojanas high and ten in circumference. Both, maddened for combat and intent on each other’s destruction, used all their strength to gain the upper hand. At this time, Garuda, the mighty bird, was advised: “Bring that elephant, immense as a mountain and terrifying in form, like a massive thundercloud, and eat it along with the nectar.” After saying this, Garuda’s father performed auspicious rites for him, blessing his journey and battle with the gods. He invoked the blessings of full vessels, Brahmins, cows, and all things excellent and auspicious, wishing Garuda good fortune. He said, “As you fight the mighty gods, the hymns of the Rig, Yajur, and Sama Vedas, the purifying mantras, the sacrificial offerings, and all the secret teachings—the entire Veda—will strengthen you in battle, O best of birds.” Thus blessed, Garuda departed. He soon came upon the pure waters of the lake, alive with many birds. Remembering his father’s words, Garuda, swift as the wind, swooped down. With one talon he seized the elephant, with the other the tortoise, and soared high into the sky. As he flew, he reached a region of divine trees. The force of his wings made the trees tremble in fear. Among them were wish-fulfilling trees, golden-branched and swaying, who thought, “Let us not be broken.” Garuda then approached other wondrous trees, bearing fruits of gold, silver, and precious beryl, shining and encircled by the ocean’s waters. Amidst them stood the Rauhina tree, colossal and beautiful, a thousand yojanas tall, with countless branches—a divine abode for birds, whose shade brought instant contentment. As Garuda approached with tremendous force, the Rauhina tree spoke: “Rest upon my great branch, a hundred yojanas long, and eat the elephant and tortoise there.” Garuda, powerful as a mountain, landed upon the branch. The weight and force of his landing broke the branch, thick with leaves and home to thousands of birds. Holding the broken branch, Garuda looked around and noticed the Valakhilya sages, small ascetic Brahmarshis, hanging upside down from it. Seeing them, Garuda thought, “The sages are here; I must not harm them.” He resolved to protect the sages even as he held the elephant and tortoise tightly in his claws. Out of fear for their safety, Garuda leapt, seizing the branch in his mouth while carefully observing the sages’ condition. Witnessing this extraordinary feat, the great sages were amazed and their hearts trembled. They spoke of Garuda’s might, for he had taken up a heavy burden and soared—the foremost of birds, the eater of serpents. Slowly, Garuda flew on, his wings shaking mountains as he traveled to many lands, still carrying the elephant and tortoise. Out of compassion for the Valakhilya sages, he searched for a suitable resting place, and at last flew swiftly to Gandhamadana, the greatest mountain. There, he saw his father Kashyapa engaged in austerity. Kashyapa, too, beheld his divine-formed son, radiant, strong, swift as mind and wind, resembling a mountain peak, like an uplifted staff of Brahma.