A son, filled with sorrow and confusion, spoke to the assembled gods: “This cannot be my true mother, O best of gods, for a mother does not curse her own child. Even if her children act wrongly, a real mother does not become angry with them. If in my childhood I said or did something amiss, a true mother would not let anger take hold of her heart. Therefore, I am certain—this is not my mother. Whatever the offspring do, whether it be good or bad, the world attributes it to the mother; for this reason, she is called ‘mother.’ Yet this woman always looks at me with a burning gaze, as if she would scorch me with her eyes, and her words are as harsh as fire. This cannot be my mother.” Hearing the son’s words, the radiant Savitā pondered deeply: “This is not his true mother. Chāyā, who stands here, is not the one who bore him; it is Uṣā, his real mother, who now dwells elsewhere.” He reflected further: “For the sake of my peace, devoted to austerity, the daughter of Tvaṣṭṛ—Uṣā—has taken the form of a mare and abides far away, among the northern Kurus.” Knowing where she was, the lord Sūrya, longing for his beloved, journeyed to the place where Uṣā dwelled in the form of a mare. He too assumed the form of a horse. Upon seeing her as a mare, he, in his stallion form, pursued her. The lustful neighing of the horse echoed as he drew near. Uṣā, ever devoted to her husband and absorbed in meditation upon him, was startled and frightened by the approach of the stallion, for she did not recognize who it was. Terrified, she fled swiftly southward, her mind racing: “Who here will protect me? Perhaps the sages or the gods?” As she, in the form of a mare, fled, Sūrya, in the form of a horse, chased her wherever she went, never letting her out of his sight. Who, under the sway of love, does not act with abandon? Uṣā crossed the sacred Bhāgīrathī river, and then many other rivers, forests, and groves in her flight. She crossed the Narmadā and the Vindhya mountains, always heading south, her heart agitated by fear, until at last, the daughter of Tvaṣṭṛ reached the banks of the Gautamī river. It was said that the sages were protectors in Janasthāna, so Uṣā, still in her mare form, entered the hermitage of the sages on the Gautamī, seeking refuge. But soon, the horse—Sūrya himself—arrived there. The sage-boys of Janasthāna tried to restrain the horse, but Sūrya, angered by their interference, cursed them: “Because you restrain me, you shall become fig trees.” However, by their vision of knowledge, the sages realized the true identity of the horse as the lord of Uṣā. Filled with joy, they praised Bhānu, the lord of gods and lords. Thus praised by the sages, Bhānu approached the mare. The mouths of the mare and the stallion joined together. Recognizing her beloved husband, the daughter of Tvaṣṭṛ emitted seed from her mouth, and from their union, the two divine Aśvins were born in the waters of the Gaṅgā. At that wondrous moment, hosts of gods, siddhas, sages, rivers, cows, herbs, and luminaries all gathered there. The virtuous chariot with seven horses arrived, Aruṇa as the charioteer of the Sun, accompanied by Yama, Manu, Varuṇa, and also Śani, son of Vivasvat. The sacred river Yamunā and the great river Tāpi, each assuming their own forms, came to that place, filled with wonder. Amazed to see the miracle, the rivers and the father-in-law of the Sun also arrived. Understanding his intention, the Sun spoke to his father-in-law, Tvaṣṭṛ: “For the delight of Uṣā, who is performing supreme austerity, O Prajāpati, fashion for me a chariot and divide my radiance into many parts—diminish my brilliance as much as will bring her comfort.” Tvaṣṭṛ replied, “So be it.” In the presence of Somanātha, he performed the division of the Sun’s radiance. From that time, the place became known as Prabhāsa. Where Uṣā was united with her husband in the Gautamī, in the form of a horse, and where the Aśvins were born, that holy site became known as Aśvatīrtha. It is also called Bhānutīrtha, as well as the hermitage of Pañcavaṭa. Tāpi and Yamunā, too, came to see their father. At the auspicious confluence of the rivers Aruṇā, Varuṇā, and Gaṅgā, the gods, each at their sacred place, assembled. There exist nine thousand sacred places of great merit there; bathing and giving gifts at these holy spots bestows inexhaustible merit. By remembering, reciting, or even hearing this tale, O Nārada, one is freed from all sins, becomes righteous, and attains happiness. Now, O Nārada, listen to the greatness of the sacred place called Gāruḍa, which removes all obstacles. There was a mighty son of Śeṣa named Maṇināga. Out of fear of Garuḍa, and with deep devotion, he pleased Lord Śaṃkara through his austerities. The blessed Maheśvara, pleased with his devotion, said to the great serpent, “Choose a boon, O serpent.” The serpent replied, “O Lord, grant me freedom from the fear of Garuḍa.” Śaṃbhu graciously granted his wish: “So be it; you shall be free from Garuḍa’s fear.” Thus, the serpent, now fearless, departed to the place near the ocean of milk, where the younger brother of Aruṇa, who dwells in the Milk Ocean, resides. There, the serpent moved about in comfort and coolness, and Garuḍa, too, would come to that place. Seeing the serpent moving about so fearlessly, Garuḍa seized the great serpent and threw him into his own abode. He bound that excellent serpent with his own bonds and held him fast. At that moment, Nandī spoke to the Lord of the world: “Surely the serpent does not come; he has either been eaten or bound by Garuḍa, O Lord of the gods. If the serpent were alive, he would not delay.” Hearing Nandī’s words and understanding the situation, Śaṃbhu, the compassionate Lord, prepared to speak.