Takṣaka, the serpent king, driven by my urging, will transgress the boundary and bite this destroyer of the dynasty on the seventh day. The boy, having learned of the curse, returned to his father’s hermitage. There, he saw his father seated with a lifeless serpent draped around his neck, and grief overwhelmed him; he cried out loudly, unable to contain his sorrow. Hearing his son’s lament, the brāhmaṇa of the Āṅgirasa lineage slowly opened his eyes. He looked upon the dead serpent resting on his shoulder, cast it aside, and gently asked his child, “Why are you crying? Who has wronged you?” The boy, thus questioned, related everything that had transpired. Upon hearing that the king had been cursed without cause, the brāhmaṇa felt no joy at his son’s actions. He lamented, “Alas, what a great calamity you have brought about today! Though your offense was small, the punishment is severe.” He admonished his son, saying, “You should not judge the king, O immature-minded one. By his invincible power, people enjoy prosperity and safety from all sides.” He explained further, “When the king, Naradeva, wielder of the chariot wheel, is disregarded, O dear one, the world will be overrun by thieves and perish in an instant, unprotected, like sheep without a shepherd. Today, sin descends upon us without interruption, as people plunder the wealth of those who have lost their protector. They kill each other, curse, rob, and seize cattle, women, and property.” He continued, “Then noble dharma dissolves among men, along with the practices of varṇa and āśrama, rooted in the three Vedas. Those absorbed in wealth and pleasure, like dogs and monkeys, cause the mixing of castes. The king is the guardian of dharma, the great emperor Bṛhacchrava, a royal sage and true devotee, who performed horse sacrifices.” The brāhmaṇa prayed, “A sin has been committed against the 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, the devotees of the Lord do not retaliate, even if they possess the power to do so.” Filled with remorse over his son’s misdeed, the great sage did not dwell upon the king’s offense against himself. 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 practical wisdom: “One should not lie down without washing the feet, nor with wet feet or head; nor should one eat food offered by others, nor lie naked, nor 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, she 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, of great resolve, agreed, saying, “So be it,” and received the seed from Kaśyapa, faithfully undertaking the vow. Indra, aware of his maternal aunt Diti’s intention, served her attentively in the hermitage. He regularly brought from the forest flowers, fruits, sacred grass, kusha, leaves, sprouts, clay, and water at the proper times. While Diti observed her vow, Hari, desiring to break it, served her in a crooked manner, like a deer in the form of a deer. Yet, Indra found no fault in her observance, for she remained steadfast. Indra fell into intense anxiety, wondering how he might achieve his purpose. One evening, exhausted by the vow and having eaten, Diti, with her feet unwashed and not cleansed by water, confused by fate, fell asleep. Seizing the 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, “Do not cry.” As they were being split, all the children, with joined palms, asked, “Why, Indra, do you wish to kill us, your brothers, the Maruts?” Kauśika replied, “Do not fear, brothers. You are dear to me. You are my attendants, the hosts of Maruts, devoted to me alone.” By the compassion of Śrīnivāsa, Diti’s embryo did not die, though struck repeatedly by the thunderbolt, just as you survived the weapon of Drona. By worshipping the primeval person even once, a person attains equality; for nearly a year, Hari was worshipped by Diti. Along with Indra, those fifty gods became the Maruts. Having dispelled their mother’s fault, they were made drinkers of Soma by Hari. Diti awoke and saw her sons, radiant like fire, with the goddess, blameless, rejoicing together with Indra. She said to him, “My child, I undertook this most difficult vow, which brings fear to the Adityas, desiring to obtain a son. One son was resolved upon, but seven have become sevenfold—how is this? If you know, my son, speak the truth and do not deceive me.” Indra replied, “Mother, understanding your intent, I came near. Seizing an opportunity, I divided the embryo, my mind set on my purpose, not on righteousness. Your embryo was cut by me into seven parts, and from them seven boys arose. Even as each was further divided into seven, none perished. Then, seeing this most astonishing outcome brought about by me, I realized it was a result of the worship of the Supreme Person, which brings about such success.” He continued, “Those who worship the Lord, desiring nothing, are remembered as truly wise, even if they do not seek anything further; but those who seek only their own benefit are not so. Who, being wise, would choose contact with material qualities, which leads even to hell, when one can worship the Lord who bestows the self, the Lord of the universe and one’s own soul? Therefore, O Mother, you ought to forgive this great offense of mine, who am childish and base. By good fortune, your embryo has arisen again from death.