When Vinatā, the ascetic lady, was told by her son, he implored her with concern, “Mother, this son of yours—if you do not, as you did with me, prematurely break open his egg—will one day release you from slavery.” He pleaded that she be patient, not making her next son incomplete or deformed through haste, but to await the proper time for his birth. “Desiring a son of superior strength, you must wait beyond five hundred years,” he said, and with these words of both blessing and curse, the son departed, vanishing into the sky. In time, Aruṇa was born at the break of dawn. At his appearance, the radiant lord of a thousand rays—the Sun—rose up, beholding him. Pleased by Aruṇa’s own brilliance, which matched his own, the Sun, the great dispeller of darkness, appointed Aruṇa as his charioteer. Thus, Aruṇa ascended the chariot of the Sun, becoming the immortal charioteer of the illuminator of all worlds. Garuda, too, was born in due course—the mighty devourer of serpents. As soon as he emerged, he left Vinatā behind and soared into the sky, hungry and determined to seek the food destined for him by the Creator. With great energy, the lord of birds set out to fulfill his purpose. At that very time, the two sisters, Vinatā and Kadru, beheld the approach of Uccaiḥśravas, the supreme horse, drawing near. All the gods, delighted, worshipped this wondrous horse-gem, born during the churning of the nectar. Uccaiḥśravas stood unrivaled in strength among horses, foremost in swiftness, resplendent, ageless, and divine, adorned with all auspicious marks. Curious, the question arose: “How was that nectar churned by the gods? Tell me, where and for what reason did that churning—greater even than nectar—take place, and where was born that mighty, radiant lord of horses?” The tale turned to Meru, the immovable mountain, supreme in brilliance, whose golden, shining peaks cast rays like the sun. Adorned with golden ornaments, wondrous to behold, it was attended by gods and gandharvas, immeasurable and unassailable by the unrighteous. Encircled by fearsome serpents and illuminated by celestial herbs, Meru stood towering, as if covering the very heavens—its slopes adorned with rivers and trees, resounding with the delightful cries of many birds. Its beautiful, gem-encrusted peak was ascended by all the mighty gods, who gathered there, free from enmity and of endless duration. There, upon that mountain, the dwellers of heaven sat and began their deliberations, united in ascetic discipline, assembled for the sake of obtaining ambrosia. As they pondered, the god Nārāyaṇa spoke to Brahmā: “Let the gods and the hosts of asuras churn the ocean with a mountain; when the great ocean is churned, ambrosia will arise there. Gather all herbs and all jewels, and by churning the ocean with a mountain, you gods shall obtain the ambrosia.” Mandara, the best of mountains, was chosen—adorned with peaks like the summits of clouds, thick with interlacing creepers, filled with the cries of many birds and crowded with fanged creatures. It was the haunt of kinnaras, apsarases, and the gods themselves, rising eleven thousand yojanas high, and rooted just as deep below the earth. Yet, when the time came, all the hosts of gods found themselves unable to lift Mandara. Seeking a solution, they approached Viṣṇu as he sat, and spoke to Brahmā: “Let your honors devise the highest and most beneficial plan for us; let effort be made for our welfare in raising Mandara.” Viṣṇu, with Brahmā and Bhārgava, agreed, and the lotus-eyed, immeasurable soul urged the king of serpents to assist. At the command of Brahmā and at the words of Nārāyaṇa, Ananta, mighty in strength, rose up to perform the task. With his immense power, Ananta lifted the king of mountains by force, along with its plateau and all its dwellers. Together with the gods, Ananta approached the ocean. They said to the lord of waters, “For the sake of ambrosia, we will churn these waters.” The lord of waters replied, “Let me also have a share; I will endure the great agitation caused by the turning of Mandara.” Then, the gods and asuras addressed the king of tortoises in the deep: “You ought to become the support for this mountain.” The tortoise agreed, offering its back, and Indra pressed the mountain upon it with his thunderbolt. Using Mandara as the churning rod and Vasuki, the serpent king, as the rope, the gods, together with the Asuras and Danavas, began to churn the ocean, as Brahmā had directed. The great Asuras seized one end of Vasuki, while all the gods took their place at the tail, where the divine Ananta, Lord Nārāyaṇa, stood. The Asuras grasped Vasuki’s head and, with force, pulled it upwards and then downwards. As they churned, smoke and blazing flames issued from Vasuki’s mouth, and the water became mixed with the poison that emerged from him. Thus, as the gods and Danavas churned the ocean with Mandara, a sharp poison arose, known as Halahala, threatening all creation.