Among all horses, there was one whose strength never failed, swiftest of the swift, radiant and ageless, divine in nature, and graced with every auspicious mark. The story of its birth is wondrous indeed. How, you may ask, did the gods produce the nectar of immortality? Where and for what purpose did that churning—greater even than the nectar itself—take place, and how was that mighty, resplendent lord of horses born? In ages past, the immovable mountain Meru stood blazing like a supreme mass of brilliance. Its golden peaks shone with the splendor of the sun, casting rays in all directions. Meru was adorned with golden ornaments, wondrous to behold, and attended by gods and gandharvas. So immense was it that none who harbored unrighteousness could assail it. Encircled by fearsome serpents and illuminated by celestial herbs, this great mountain towered high, as if it covered the very heavens. It was a place inaccessible even to thought, adorned with flowing rivers and lush trees, and alive with the delightful cries of countless birds. Upon Meru’s beautiful peak, encrusted with many gems, all the mighty gods—free from enmity and eternal—gathered together. There, seated in council, the dwellers of heaven began their deliberations, united in ascetic discipline, having assembled for the sake of obtaining ambrosia. As the gods pondered and conferred among themselves, the great 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 from its depths. Gather all the herbs and jewels, and by churning the ocean with the mountain, you gods will obtain the nectar you seek.” For this task, the best of mountains was chosen—Mandara, adorned with cloud-like peaks, thick with intertwining creepers. Its heights were filled with the cries of many birds and the presence of fanged creatures. Kinnaras, apsarases, and even the gods frequented its slopes. Mandara rose eleven thousand yojanas high, and its roots plunged a thousand yojanas deep into the earth. Yet, when the time came, all the hosts of gods could not lift the mountain. They approached Viṣṇu as he sat and spoke to Brahmā: “Let your wisdom devise the highest and most beneficial plan for us; let every effort be made for our welfare in raising Mandara.” Viṣṇu, together with Brahmā and Bhārgava, consented, and the lotus-eyed, immeasurable soul urged the king of serpents to aid them. At the command of Brahmā and the words of Nārāyaṇa, Ananta, mighty in strength, rose up to perform this task. With immense power, Ananta lifted the king of mountains by force, along with its plateau and all its dwellers. Together with the gods, he approached the ocean, and they declared their intent: “For the sake of ambrosia, we will churn these waters.” The lord of waters replied, “Let me also have a share, for I will endure the great agitation caused by the turning of Mandara.” The gods and asuras then addressed the king of tortoises dwelling 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. So, using Mandara as the churning rod and Vasuki, the king of serpents, as the rope, the gods, asuras, and danavas began to churn the ocean, following Brahmā’s direction. The great asuras seized one end of Vasuki, while all the gods together took their place at the tail, where the divine Ananta and Lord Nārāyaṇa stood. The asuras grasped Vasuki’s head and repeatedly pulled it up and down. As they swiftly pulled, smoke and blazing flames issued from Vasuki’s mouth again and again. As Vasuki was churned, the water became mixed with the potent poison that emerged from him. Then, as the gods and danavas churned with Mandara using all their strength, a sharp and dreadful poison arose—Halahala by name. Scorched by this poison, the gods and danavas fled in terror and fell into despair. In their distress, the gods, together with the foremost sages, approached Brahmā and pleaded: “As we churned for ambrosia, a poison has arisen, blazing like the fire of destruction. The worlds are tormented by it—please counteract this calamity.” Thus addressed, Brahmā meditated upon Hara, the lord of the worlds. He thought of the three-eyed, trident-bearing Rudra, god of gods and consort of Uma. Knowing their plight, Rudra swiftly appeared. The lord of creatures related all that had transpired. Hearing this, the lord of gods, wishing for the welfare of all beings, drank that blazing poison and held it in his throat. Because his throat became blue from the poison, he is remembered as “the blue-throated one.” When Rudra of immeasurable energy drank the poison, the gods were pleased and resumed their work. Again, the gods and danavas churned the ocean for the sake of ambrosia. As the asuras swiftly pulled Vasuki, smoke and blazing flames issued from his mouth. The masses of smoke became clouds filled with lightning, and they rained down upon the hosts of gods, who were exhausted and afflicted by their great toil. Thus, the churning of the ocean continued, leading to the marvels that followed.