After a long time, the sage Jaratkaru ascended to heaven, his earthly journey complete. Thus, I have recounted to you the true story of Āstīka. If you wish to hear more, O noble Bhṛgu, tell me what else you desire to know. At this, the eager sage requested, “O Sauti, please narrate once again, and in full detail, the tale of Āstīka the sage and poet. Our longing to hear it is very great. Your words are gentle and sweet; your storytelling delights us as a father’s affection would. Your own father was ever devoted to our service, listening attentively and recounting tales—please share this story just as your father told it.” Sauti replied, “O long-lived one, I shall relate the story of Āstīka as I heard it from my father, faithfully and in the same manner.” Long ago, in the age when gods walked the earth, there lived two wondrously beautiful sisters, daughters of Prajāpati. These two, Kadrū and Vinatā, became wives to the great sage Kaśyapa. Pleased with them, Kaśyapa, who was as radiant as Prajāpati himself, offered to grant each a boon. Filled with joy, Kaśyapa listened as his virtuous wives made their requests. Kadrū, delighted beyond compare, asked for a thousand sons, each equal in splendor. Vinatā, on the other hand, wished for only two sons—but she desired that they be superior in strength, energy, beauty, and prowess to the sons of Kadrū. Kaśyapa granted their wishes: “So be it,” he said, and Vinatā was content, knowing she would bear two mighty sons. Kadrū too rejoiced, for she would have a thousand radiant offspring. The great ascetic Kaśyapa instructed both wives to carefully tend to their pregnancies, and with their boons granted, the two sisters withdrew into the forest. In due time, Vinatā laid two eggs. Her attendants, delighted, placed them in safe and warm vessels. For five hundred years, these eggs were kept moist and protected. At the end of that time, the thousand sons of Kadrū emerged from their eggs. Yet from Vinatā’s two eggs, there was no sign of life. Ashamed and longing for her own sons, Vinatā undertook severe austerities. Unable to contain her yearning, Vinatā broke open one of her eggs. Inside, she saw a son, but his body was only half-formed; the other half remained unmanifest. The son, overcome with anger, cursed his mother: “Because you, driven by impatience, have brought me forth incomplete, you will become a slave for five hundred years to your rival, Kadrū. Yet, mother, know this: your other son will release you from bondage, if you do not break open his egg prematurely as you did with me. Be patient, and do not cause him to be born incomplete or deformed. Wait beyond five hundred years for the son of superior strength you desire.” Having spoken thus, the half-formed son ascended into the sky. This son was Aruṇa, and at the break of dawn, he appeared radiant. Seeing Aruṇa, the glorious lord of a thousand rays, the Sun, rose in joy. Aruṇa, shining with his own brilliance and equal in splendor to the Sun, was appointed as the divine charioteer, dispelling darkness and illuminating the worlds. In due course, Garuḍa too was born from Vinatā’s second egg. Mighty and destined to be the devourer of serpents, Garuḍa, as soon as he emerged, soared into the sky, seeking the food appointed for him by the Creator, driven by hunger and divine purpose. At this very time, Kadrū and Vinatā beheld the approach of Uccaiḥśravas, the celestial horse. All the gods, delighted, worshipped this supreme horse, born during the churning of the nectar. Uccaiḥśravas was unrivaled in strength among horses, foremost in speed, radiant, ageless, divine, and adorned with all auspicious marks. Curious, the sages asked, “How did the gods churn the nectar? Tell us where and for what reason this churning, which even surpassed nectar itself, took place, and where the mighty, radiant lord of horses was born.” There stood the immovable mountain Meru, a supreme mass of brilliance with golden peaks shining like the sun, casting dazzling rays in all directions. Adorned with golden ornaments, attended by gods and gandharvas, Meru was immeasurable, unassailable by the unrighteous, and encircled by fearsome serpents. Celestial herbs illuminated its slopes, and the mountain towered so high it seemed to cover the heavens. Its slopes were adorned with rivers and trees, and the air was filled with the delightful cries of many birds. Upon its beautiful, gem-encrusted peak, all the mighty gods—free from enmity and of endless duration—gathered. There, seated together, the dwellers of heaven began their deliberations, united in ascetic discipline and intent on obtaining ambrosia. As the gods pondered, the great Nārāyaṇa addressed Brahmā: “Let the gods and the hosts of asuras churn the ocean with a mountain. When the great ocean is churned, ambrosia will arise.” Thus began the events that would bring forth the nectar of immortality and the wonders that accompanied it.