Each day, Diti faithfully observed her vow, collecting from the forest whatever was required at the proper times—flowers, fruits, sacred grass, kusha, leaves, sprouts, clay, and water. Her devotion was unwavering, and she performed each ritual with care. Yet, Hari, wishing to disrupt her vow, served her in a crooked manner, resembling a deer in the guise of a deer, seeking an opportunity to break her resolve. Despite his efforts, Diti’s commitment remained unbroken. Indra, observing her steadfastness, became anxious, unable to find any fault or lapse in her observance. He wondered desperately how he might achieve his purpose. One evening, exhausted from her vow and after eating, Diti, her feet unwashed and not cleansed by water, succumbed to sleep, her mind clouded by fate. Indra seized this moment. Master of yoga, he entered Diti’s womb by his yogic power while she slept, her mind overcome. With his thunderbolt, he split the golden-hued embryo within her into seven parts. As each fragment cried out, Indra gently commanded, “Do not cry.” Yet, as he continued to divide them, all seven, with joined palms, pleaded, “Why, Indra, do you wish to kill us, your brothers, the Maruts?” Indra, known as Kauśika, replied with affection, “Do not fear, brothers. You are dear to me. You are my attendants, the hosts of Maruts, devoted to me alone.” Though the embryo was repeatedly struck by Indra’s thunderbolt, it did not perish, protected by the compassion of Śrīnivāsa, just as you survived the weapon of Drona. Diti’s worship of the primeval person, Hari, for nearly a year—even if only once—had granted her equality and protection. Alongside Indra, fifty gods became the Maruts, dispelling their mother’s fault and, through Hari’s grace, were made drinkers of Soma. When Diti awoke, she beheld her sons, radiant like fire, rejoicing together with the goddess and Indra, all blameless. She turned to Indra and said, “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 answered, “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.” Śuka continued, saying that Diti permitted Indra, pure-hearted and satisfied, and he, together with the Maruts, bowed to her and returned to heaven. “All that you have asked has been told,” Śuka said, “the auspicious birth of the Maruts. What more shall I tell you?” Meanwhile, Sūta narrated that the king, deeply troubled, reflected on his own blameworthy act—not committed by himself, but regretted—thinking, “Alas, I have acted basely, like one unworthy, toward the sinless, the hiddenly powerful Brahmin.” He lamented, “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.” As he reflected, he heard how the sage’s son had pronounced death by Takṣaka. He considered it good, for soon Takṣaka would bring detachment to one so attached. Resolutely, he renounced both this world and the next, having weighed their worthlessness beforehand. He resolved to serve Kṛṣṇa’s feet and sat down to fast by the immortal river. That river, whose waters are mixed with the dust of Kṛṣṇa’s feet and are more purifying than the Ganges, sanctifies all worlds and their rulers. Who, facing death, would not serve her? Thus, the son of Pāṇḍu, having resolved, undertook the vow of fasting unto death at the bank of the Viṣṇu-pada, fixing his mind solely on Mukunda’s feet, with the resolve of a sage, freed from all attachments. Great and noble sages arrived at that place, purifying the world, accompanied by their disciples. Many came under the pretext of visiting holy sites, for the virtuous themselves sanctify the holy places. Among them were Atri, Vasiṣṭha, Cyavana, Śaradvān, Ariṣṭanemi, Bhṛgu, and Aṅgirā; Parāśara, the son of Gādhi, Rāma, Utathya, Indrapramada, Edhmavāha; Medhātithi, Devala, Ārṣṭiṣeṇa, Bhāradvāja, Gautama, Pippalāda; Maitreya, Aurva, Kavaṣa, Kumbhayoni, Dvaipāyana, and the venerable Nārada. Others, distinguished among deva-sages, brahma-sages, and royal sages, came along with Aruṇa and his companions. The king honored the assembled eminent descendants of sages, bowing his head in reverence. When they were comfortably seated, he offered his respects, his mind clear and intent, standing before them with hands joined. He spoke, “Ah, among rulers, we are the most fortunate, for the greatest have shown us their gracious nature. The dynasty of kings, due to the impurity of neglecting the feet of brāhmaṇas, has been cast far away—alas, such blameworthy deeds.” “For me, the Supreme Lord of all, seeing my mind repeatedly attached to household affairs, has caused a sense of detachment, rooted in the words of the twice-born, where attachment quickly brings fear.” “O brāhmaṇas, may you remain with me, who has approached, and may the goddess Gaṅgā, with my mind fixed upon the Lord. Whether by the curse of a brāhmaṇa or by the snake Takṣaka, let it happen; meanwhile, sing the glories of Viṣṇu.” “May there again be devotion and attachment to the infinite Lord, and to those who take refuge in Him; wherever I am born among the noble, may there always be friendship, and I bow to the brāhmaṇas everywhere.” Having placed the burden of his wife and son with the ocean’s daughter, the king, resolute in his decision, sat facing north on the eastern bank, upon a bed of kuśa grass, steadfast. As he sat in fasting, the hosts of gods in heaven praised him. They scattered flowers upon the earth with joy, and drums resounded again and again, celebrating the king’s devotion and resolve.