As the gods gathered, ominous signs began to manifest in their midst, foretelling grave danger. Indra’s beloved thunderbolt blazed with a fearful intensity, and suddenly, fiery meteors streaked through the sky, trailing smoke. These portents appeared not only among Indra’s hosts, but also among the Vasus, Rudras, and all the Ādityas. The Sādhyas, Maruts, and every assembly of divine beings seized their own weapons and rushed forth, prepared to confront one another. A battle between the gods and asuras erupted, unlike any ever witnessed. The winds howled with thunderous force, and thousands of meteors rained down from above. Though the sky was clear of clouds, it roared with a mighty sound, and even the god of gods poured down blood upon the earth. The garlands adorning the gods withered, their radiance dimmed, and dreadful clouds unleashed torrents of blood. Dust whirled up, striking their crowns, leaving them terrified and disturbed. Indra, shaken by these dire omens, gathered the gods and spoke anxiously to Bṛhaspati, the wise preceptor. “O blessed one,” Indra asked, “why have these terrible omens suddenly arisen? I see no enemy in battle who could overpower us.” Bṛhaspati replied, “O Indra, because of your fault and negligence, O wielder of the thunderbolt, the great-souled Vālakhilya sages, through their austerity, have brought forth a mighty being. The son of the sage Kaśyapa, the sky-roaming child of Vinatā, strong and able to assume any form at will, is now set out to seize the Soma.” He continued, “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—another name for Indra—addressed the guardians of the nectar, saying, “A bird of immense strength and power is 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.” Bṛhaspati urged, “Guard it, O heroic gods, so that he does not seize it by force; for his strength is unmatched.” Hearing these words, the gods, astonished and resolute, took up their positions, surrounding the nectar. Indra the thunderer stood radiant among them. They donned splendid golden armor, adorned with precious gems and inlaid with beryl, their minds unwavering. Shining, sturdy coats of mail covered their bodies, and they wielded terrifying weapons of many forms. The foremost among them raised sharp-edged weapons, blazing with sparks and smoke. They took up discus, iron clubs, tridents, battle-axes, sharp spears, spotless swords, and fearsome maces, each suited to their own divine form. Adorned with celestial ornaments and bearing radiant weapons, the hosts of gods shone, free from all stain. Unmatched in strength, valor, and brilliance, firm in their resolve to protect the nectar, the gods—destroyers of demon cities—stood with bodies blazing like fire. Thus, the gods prepared for the great battle, the area crowded with hundreds and thousands of iron clubs, shining like the sky aglow with 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: “This is indeed a topic of the Purāṇa about which you question me; listen as I recount all this to you in brief, O twice-born.” “When Kaśyapa, 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.” “He then saw the Vālakhilya sages, small in stature, their bodies no larger than a thumb, carrying together a single palasha twig along the path. Emaciated from austerity, faint with hunger, their limbs withdrawn, they struggled in a puddle of water at a cow’s hoof-print. Filled with amazement and intoxicated by his own strength, Purandara—Indra—laughed at them, mocked them, and quickly passed by.” “Seized by intense anger, those sages undertook a mighty act, terrifying even to Indra. With proper rites, they offered oblations into the fire, reciting both high and low mantras. Listen to the desire for which they performed this: ‘May there arise, by our austerity, another Indra, endowed with desire, strength, and movement at will, who will bring fear to the king of the gods. May one be born, dreadful, a hundred times greater than Indra in heroism, strength, and speed, as the fruit of our austerity.’” “Learning of this, Indra, king of the gods and performer of a hundred sacrifices, was greatly troubled and sought refuge with Kaśyapa, steadfast in his vows. Hearing Indra’s plea, Kaśyapa approached the Vālakhilyas and inquired about the completion of their rite: ‘With what desire did you begin this sacrificial act? Tell me truthfully, for I am eager to hear.’” The sages replied, “We were scorned by Indra, the king of the gods, who, blinded by arrogance and lacking judgment, cast aside good conduct.” Thus, the tale of Indra’s fault, the Vālakhilyas’ austerity, and the mighty birth of Garuḍa began to unfold, setting the stage for the wondrous events that followed.