The mighty Garuḍa, swift as thought, soared through the sky toward a vast mountain, carrying in his powerful talons a massive branch upon which perched both an elephant and a tortoise. No mortal, however strong, could have lifted such an immense branch, nor the hide of that great-bodied beast; yet Garuḍa, lord of birds, grasped the huge bough and flew effortlessly across the heavens. With astonishing speed, Garuḍa traveled a hundred thousand yojanas, covering the distance in but a short span. Arriving at the mountain as his father had instructed, the sky-roaming bird released the great branch, which crashed down with a thunderous sound. The wind from Garuḍa’s wings struck the king of mountains, causing it to tremble; trees collided, and a rain of flowers cascaded from above. All around, the mountain’s peaks shattered, revealing gems and gold that adorned and beautified the landscape. Many trees struck by the falling branch gleamed with golden blossoms, shining like clouds lit by lightning. Those trees, blooming with gold and mingling with the mountain’s minerals, sparkled in the sunlight. Perched atop the mountain peak, Garuḍa, the greatest of birds, began to devour both the elephant and the tortoise. Having consumed them, the swift Tārkṣya leapt up from the summit, ready to continue his quest. At that moment, ominous portents arose among the gods, foretelling danger. Indra’s beloved thunderbolt blazed forth in fear. A fiery meteor, trailing smoke, fell from the sky; likewise, among the Vasus, Rudras, and all the Ādityas, signs of distress appeared. Among the Sādhyas, Maruts, and the other hosts of gods, each seized their own weapon and rushed against one another. In that unprecedented battle between gods and asuras, winds howled with thunder, and thousands of meteors rained down. The sky, though cloudless, roared with a mighty sound; even the god of gods among the deities rained blood. The garlands of the gods withered, their brilliance faded, and dreadful clouds poured forth blood. Dust rose up and struck their crowns, filling them with terror and disturbance. Seeing these dreadful omens, Indra, together with the gods, spoke anxiously to Bṛhaspati: “O blessed one, why have these terrible signs suddenly arisen? I see no enemy in battle who could overpower us.” Bṛhaspati replied, “O Indra, these portents are due to your fault and negligence, O wielder of the thunderbolt. By the austerity of the great-souled Vālakhilya sages, the son of the sage Kaśyapa—the sky-roaming child of Vinatā, strong and able to assume any form at will—has set out to seize the Soma. That bird, supreme among the mighty, is capable of taking the Soma; I believe he could accomplish anything, even what seems impossible.” Upon hearing this, Śakra—Indra—spoke to the guardians of nectar: “A bird of immense strength and power is now preparing to take the Soma. I am alerting you all—take up your defensive weapons and surround the nectar on every side, following my command here. Guard it, O heroic gods, so that he does not seize it by force; for his strength is unmatched,” added Bṛhaspati. The gods, astonished by these words, took up their positions with determination, surrounding the nectar, while Indra the thunderer stood radiant among them. They donned splendid golden armor adorned with precious gems and beryl, their minds resolute. Shining, sturdy coats of mail protected their bodies, and they wielded many terrifying weapons of various forms. The best of the gods raised weapons with sharp, keen edges, blazing with sparks and smoke on every side. They took up discus, iron clubs, tridents, battle-axes, sharp spears, spotless swords, and fearsome maces, each suited to their own form. Adorned with divine ornaments and bearing radiant weapons, the hosts of gods stood shining, free from all stain. Unmatched in strength, valor, and brilliance, firm in mind to protect the nectar, the gods—destroyers of demon cities—shone with bodies blazing like fire. Thus, the gods stood ready for the great battle, the area crowded with hundreds and thousands of iron clubs, shining like the sky lit by the rays of the sun. At this point, a question arose: “What was Indra’s fault, and what was his negligence, O charioteer’s son? How did Garuḍa arise from the austerity of the Vālakhilyas? How did the king of birds, son of Kaśyapa and Vinatā, become invincible and invulnerable among all beings? How did he become a free-roaming, wish-fulfilling, sky-dwelling being? I wish to hear all this, if it is told in the Purāṇa.” The reply came: “Indeed, this is a topic of the Purāṇa about which you inquire; listen as I recount all this to you in brief, O twice-born. When Kaśyapa, the lord of creatures, was performing a sacrifice desiring sons, the sages, gods, and Gandharvas assisted him. For gathering the sacrificial fuel, Kaśyapa appointed Indra, along with the Vālakhilya sages and other groups of deities. Indra, powerful as he was, lifted a load of fuel, shining like a mountain, and carried it with ease, as if it were no great effort. Then he saw the sages, small in stature—their bodies no larger than a thumb—carrying together a single palasha twig along the path.