When Indra, together with fifty other gods, had fulfilled their task, they became known as the Maruts. By the grace of Hari, they dispelled the fault of their mother, Diti, and were made worthy to partake of the sacred Soma, joining the ranks of the gods. Diti, their mother, arose and beheld her sons. They shone with the brilliance of fire, radiant and full of life, rejoicing together with the goddess and Indra. She, now blameless, saw them gathered, free from blemish, and her heart was filled with wonder and relief. Turning to Indra, Diti spoke: “My child, I undertook this most arduous vow, one that brings fear even to the Adityas, for I wished to obtain a son. I had set my heart on one son, yet now there are seven, and each of these has become sevenfold. How can this be? If you know, my son, speak the truth and do not deceive your mother.” Indra replied with humility: “Mother, knowing your desire, I approached you. When the opportunity arose, I divided the embryo, my mind fixed on my purpose, though not on righteousness. I cut your embryo into seven parts, and from each, seven sons arose. Even as I divided each further, none perished. Witnessing this most astonishing result, I understood that it was the fruit of your worship of the Supreme Person. Such is the power of devotion, which brings about wondrous success. “Those who worship the Lord, desiring nothing, are truly wise—even if they seek nothing further. But those who seek only their own benefit are not so. Who, being wise, would choose contact with material qualities, which lead even to hell, when one can worship the Lord, the giver of the self, the soul of all, and the Lord of the universe? “Therefore, O Mother, please forgive this great offense of mine. I am childish and base. By your good fortune, your sons have arisen again from death.” Śuka then said: Thus permitted by his pure-hearted and satisfied mother, Indra, having bowed to her together with the Maruts, returned to heaven. Having thus recounted the auspicious birth of the Maruts, Śuka asked, “What more shall I tell you?” At this time, Sūta spoke: The king, Parīkṣit, was deeply troubled. He reflected upon the blameworthy act he had committed—not by his own hand, but still his responsibility. He thought, “Alas, I have acted basely, unworthy of my station, towards the sinless and 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 again do such a thing. “Today, may the fire of the Brahmin’s anger, which has been kindled against me, consume my kingdom, my power, and my vast treasury. May I, the unfortunate one, never again harbor such evil thoughts towards Brahmins, gods, or cows.” As he thus reflected, he heard how the sage’s son had pronounced his death—Takṣaka, the serpent, would be the instrument. Parīkṣit accepted this as good, for he saw that Takṣaka would bring detachment to one so attached. Then, having weighed the worthlessness of this world and the next, he renounced both, resolving to serve Kṛṣṇa’s feet. He sat down to fast unto death by the immortal river, whose waters, sanctified by the dust of Kṛṣṇa’s feet, are more purifying even than the Ganges and sanctify all worlds and their rulers. Who, facing death, would not seek her shelter? 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. To that sacred place, great and noble sages arrived with their disciples, purifying the world by their presence. Many came under the pretext of visiting holy sites, for the virtuous themselves sanctify the places they visit. Among them were Atri, Vasiṣṭha, Cyavana, Śaradvān, Ariṣṭanemi, Bhṛgu, and Aṅgirā; Parāśara, Viśvāmitra (the son of Gādhi), Rāma, Utathya, Indrapramada, and Edhmavāha; Medhātithi, Devala, Ārṣṭiṣeṇa, Bhāradvāja, Gautama, Pippalāda; Maitreya, Aurva, Kavaṣa, Kumbhayoni, Dvaipāyana, and the venerable Nārada. There were also others, distinguished among deva-sages, brahma-sages, and royal sages, along with Aruṇa and his companions. King Parīkṣit, honoring these eminent descendants of sages, bowed his head in reverence. When they were comfortably seated, he approached them with joined palms, having offered his respects, his mind clear and intent to act according to his purpose. He spoke: “Ah, among rulers, we are 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 fallen far—alas, such blameworthy deeds! For me, the Supreme Lord, seeing my mind so attached to household affairs, has brought about this sense of detachment, rooted in the words of the twice-born, for attachment quickly brings fear. “O brāhmaṇas, may you remain with me, who has approached you, and may the goddess Gaṅgā stay, as my mind is fixed upon the Lord. Whether by the curse of a brāhmaṇa or by the bite of Takṣaka, let it happen; meanwhile, sing the glories of Viṣṇu. May there ever 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.” Thus resolved, the king sat facing north upon the eastern bank, seated upon a bed of kuśa grass, steadfast, having entrusted the care of his wife and son to the daughter of the ocean. As the king sat in fasting, the hosts of gods in heaven praised him. They scattered flowers upon the earth in joy, and drums resounded again and again. The assembled sages praised and approved his actions, saying, “His conduct is for the welfare of the people and is adorned by the virtues of the Lord, praised by the highest. Nor is it remarkable, O foremost of royal sages, among those devoted to Kṛṣṇa, that they, who once occupied the throne adorned with the royal crown, immediately renounce it, desiring only the Lord’s presence. All of us shall remain here today, until he abandons his body; then this foremost devotee of the Lord will attain the supreme world, free from passion and sorrow.” Hearing the words of the assembly of sages, Parīkṣit, together with his teacher Madhucyuda, and being faultless, addressed them, greeting those present and expressing eagerness to hear the deeds of Viṣṇu. He said, “All have gathered here from every direction, as the Vedas take form in the three worlds. Here or elsewhere, there is no purpose except the supreme welfare and the nature of the self. Therefore, I ask you, O brāhmaṇas, what should be done? For those who are dying, what is the pure duty? Let those who are learned deliberate upon it.” At that moment, the son of Vyāsa, the venerable Śuka, arrived there by chance, wandering the earth without expectation. His appearance was unassuming, his signs unrecognizable; he was content in his own gain, surrounded by children, and wore the garb of a mocker. Though only in his sixteenth year, he possessed tender feet, hands, thighs, arms, shoulders, and cheeks. His limbs were graceful, his eyes large and elongated, his ears equal to his raised nostrils, his brows beautiful, his face radiant, and his neck well-formed like a conch. His collarbones were hidden, his chest broad and high, his navel deep and whorled, his belly marked with lines and softly rounded. Unclothed, his hair spread over his face, his arms long and hanging, resembling the best among gods. His complexion was dark, his youthful beauty ever fresh, and his limbs marked by auspicious signs. With a charming smile, he captivated the minds of women. Even the assembled sages, though they knew his true nature, rose from their seats to honor him, for his greatness was hidden from ordinary sight.