O gentle one, do not judge the king so harshly. By his invincible power, the people enjoy prosperity and are protected from every danger. When the king—called Naradeva, the earthly god and wielder of the chariot wheel—is disregarded, the world is swiftly overrun by thieves. Without protection, it perishes in an instant, just as a flock of sheep is lost without a shepherd. See what happens when the king’s authority is lost: sin floods in without pause. The wealth of those who have lost their protector is plundered, people kill and curse each other, rob, seize cattle, women, and property. In such chaos, noble dharma dissolves among men, and the practices of varṇa and āśrama, rooted in the three Vedas, vanish. Then, those obsessed with wealth and pleasure, behaving like dogs and monkeys, cause the mixing of castes. But the king is the guardian of dharma, a great emperor named Bṛhacchrava, a royal sage and true devotee, who performed horse sacrifices. Against this innocent king, a sin has been committed by a child of immature understanding. May the Lord, the soul of all, forgive this offense. Even when insulted, deceived, cursed, abused, or even killed, the Lord’s devotees do not retaliate, even if they possess the power to do so. Thus, because of his son’s offense, the great sage was filled with remorse; though he himself had been wronged by the king, he did not dwell on the offense. Generally, the virtuous are placed in situations of duality by others, yet they neither grieve nor rejoice, for they rely upon the qualities of their own self. Now, listen to the sacred observances: one should not lie down without washing the feet, nor with wet feet, nor with the head wet; nor eat food offered by others, nor lie naked, nor at dawn or dusk. Always pure, dressed in clean garments, and endowed with auspiciousness, one should worship cows, Brahmins, fortune, and the infallible Lord before breakfast. Women and those of valor should worship with garlands, fragrances, offerings, and ornaments; having worshipped her husband, a woman should attend to him and meditate upon him as residing within her womb. If you uphold this unbroken vow of puṃsavana for a year, then a son who will defeat even Indra shall be born to you. Diti, resolute, agreed: “So be it.” She received the seed from Kaśyapa and faithfully undertook the vow. Indra, knowing his maternal aunt’s intention, served Diti in the hermitage with great attention. He regularly brought her flowers, fruits, sacred grass, kusha, leaves, sprouts, clay, and water at the appropriate times. Thus, while she observed the vow, Hari, desiring to break it, served her in a crooked manner, like a deer in the form of a deer. But he found no fault in her observance, for she was steadfast. Indra then fell into anxiety, wondering by what means 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 that moment, 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?” Indra replied, “Do not fear, brothers; you are dear to me. You are my attendants, the hosts of Maruts, devoted to me alone.” Diti’s embryo did not die, by the compassion of Śrīnivāsa; 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 Indra, “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. 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.” Śrī Śuka said: Thus permitted by her, pure-hearted and satisfied, Indra, having bowed to her together with the Maruts, returned to heaven. Thus, all that you have asked me has been told—the auspicious birth of the Maruts. What more shall I tell you? Now, Sūta continued: The king, deeply troubled, reflected on that blameworthy act—not done by himself—and thought, “Alas, I have acted basely, like one unworthy, toward the sinless, the hiddenly powerful Brahmin. Surely, because of my disrespect toward the godly, a great calamity, hard to overcome, will soon befall me. Let it come as it will, as expiation for my sin, so that I may never do such a thing again. Today, may the fire of the angered Brahmin, which has been kindled against me, consume my kingdom, power, and vast treasury, for I, the unfortunate one, may never again harbor such evil thoughts toward Brahmins, gods, or cows.