O noble ones, your questions have been put forth, and I shall answer as best as my understanding allows. Just as birds soar through the sky according to their own strength, so too do those who seek wisdom advance on the path of Vishnu, each in accordance with their own insight. Once, a king, while hunting in the forest with his bow ready, pursued a deer and became weary, overcome by hunger and thirst. Seeking relief, he wandered into a hermitage in search of water. There, he saw a sage seated in deep tranquility, his eyes closed in meditation. The sage, with his senses, breath, mind, and intellect perfectly restrained, had transcended the three worlds and attained unity with Brahman, the changeless Absolute. The sage was clad in matted hair and a deerskin. The king, his throat parched, humbly begged him for water. But the sage, absorbed in his meditation, neither offered grass nor earth, nor the customary water and kind words. Feeling disregarded and unable to obtain even simple offerings, the king’s anger was kindled. Never before had he suffered such hunger and thirst, and envy and wrath arose within him toward the Brahmin. In his rage, the king placed a lifeless snake upon the sage’s shoulder and left the hermitage, returning to his city. He wondered whether the sage, with all his senses withdrawn and eyes closed, was truly absorbed in meditation or merely feigning it. Such doubts often arise in the minds of warriors. Meanwhile, the sage’s son, a boy of exceptional brilliance, was playing among other children. Upon hearing that his father had been wronged by the king, he spoke out in indignation. “Alas, what injustice by rulers! Like gluttons devouring offerings, the offense of servants against their master is like gatekeepers—or even dogs—rebelling against their lord. Though born a kṣatriya, he was appointed by the brāhmaṇas as the guardian of the household. How then does such a doorkeeper deserve to partake of the household’s provisions?” He continued, “Now that Krishna, the Lord and guide for those who stray, has departed, I shall punish those who have broken the bridge of righteousness. Witness my power!” With his eyes reddened by anger, the young sage purified himself at the Kauśikī river and uttered a thunderbolt of words: “Thus, having transgressed the boundary, Takṣaka, urged by me, will bite this destroyer of the dynasty on the seventh day.” After pronouncing the curse, the boy rushed to the hermitage. Seeing his father with the dead serpent draped around his neck, he was overcome with sorrow and cried out loudly. Hearing his son’s lament, the sage of the Āṅgirasa lineage slowly opened his eyes and, seeing the serpent, cast it aside. He asked, “Child, why are you crying? Who has wronged you?” The boy explained everything. Upon hearing that the king had been undeservedly cursed, the sage did not rejoice in his son’s actions. He lamented, “Alas, what a great calamity you have caused today! Though the offense was small, the punishment is severe.” He counseled his son, “You should not judge the king, O immature-minded one. By his invincible power, the people enjoy prosperity and safety. If Naradeva, the wielder of the chariot wheel, is disregarded, the world will be overrun by thieves and perish in an instant, like sheep without a shepherd.” The sage foresaw the consequences: “Today, sin comes upon us without interruption. People plunder the wealth of those without a protector; they kill, curse, rob, and seize cattle, women, and property. Noble dharma dissolves among men, along with the practices of varṇa and āśrama rooted in the three Vedas. Thereafter, those absorbed in wealth and pleasure, like dogs and monkeys, cause the mixing of castes.” He praised the king: “The king, guardian of dharma, is the great emperor Bṛhacchrava, a royal sage and true devotee who performed horse sacrifices. A sin has been committed against this innocent king by a child of immature understanding. May the Lord, the soul of all, forgive this offense. Even when insulted, deceived, cursed, abused, or killed, devotees of the Lord do not retaliate, even if they possess the power to do so.” Filled with remorse for his son’s deed, the sage did not dwell on the king’s offense. He reflected, “Generally, the virtuous in this world are placed in situations of duality by others, yet they neither grieve nor rejoice, for their reliance is upon the qualities of the self.” He then imparted wisdom regarding conduct: “One should not lie down without washing the feet, nor with wet feet or head. Nor should one eat food offered by others, lie naked, or at dawn or dusk. Always pure, clothed in clean garments, endowed with auspiciousness, one should worship cows, Brahmins, fortune, and the infallible Lord before breakfast. Women and those possessing valor should worship with garlands, fragrances, offerings, and ornaments. Having worshipped her husband, a wife should attend to him and meditate upon him as residing within her womb.” He promised, “If you uphold this unbroken vow of puṃsavana for a year, then a son who will defeat Indra shall be born to you.” Diti, with great resolve, agreed, saying, “So be it.” She received the seed from Kaśyapa and faithfully undertook the vow. Indra, knowing his maternal aunt’s intention, served Diti in her hermitage with attentive care. He regularly brought flowers, fruits, sacred grass, kusha, leaves, sprouts, clay, and water at appropriate times. While she observed the vow, Hari, desiring to break it, served her in a crooked manner, like a deer disguised as a deer. Yet, he found no breach in her vow, for she remained intent upon it. Indra then fell into intense anxiety, wondering how he might achieve his purpose. One evening, exhausted by the vow and having eaten, with her feet unwashed and not cleansed by water, Diti, confused by fate, fell asleep. Seizing this opportunity, Indra, master of yoga, entered Diti’s womb by his yogic power while her mind was overcome by sleep. With his thunderbolt, he split the golden-hued embryo into seven parts. As each cried, he said to them again, “Do not cry.