At the request of the sage Atri, the mighty Viśvakarman, creator of all beings, set to work with divine speed. He fashioned the golden mountain Meru, the splendid city of the gods, and wondrous wish-fulfilling trees and creepers. He also brought forth the miraculous cow of plenty, whose gifts never diminished. Viśvakarman then created radiant houses, adorned with vajra and precious gems, each more beautiful than the last. He shaped Śacī, flawless in every limb, and built a pleasure hall that rivaled even the abode of Kāma, the god of love. In an instant, he formed the Sudharmā assembly hall, crafted enchanting Apsarases, and conjured the mighty elephant Airāvata. Weapons of thunderbolt and every god, without exception, were created by his hand. Though his beloved tried to restrain him, Atri’s son created a wife equal to Śacī herself. Then, with Atri’s faces joined in, he fashioned the thunderbolt and other celestial weapons. He brought forth all the arts of dance and song as they are known in Indra’s city. Having acquired all these wonders, the chief of sages felt his heart overflow with joy. In such supremely delightful surroundings, who could possibly feel any longing? Not even for things visible to the eye. Yet, when news of these marvels spread, the Daityas and Dānavas, along with the Rākṣasas, became filled with anger and gathered together. They wondered aloud, “Why has Hari abandoned heaven and come to earth? Is it for mutual pleasure? Let us go forth and fight the slayer of Vṛtra, whose sacrifice was so brief!” With this, the Asuras surrounded Atri’s son and encircled the marvelous city he had created. They named it Indra’s city, recognizing its splendor. Among them stood one who was firstborn, resolute in mind—the god who surpassed all others by sacrifice, whose power upheld heaven and earth, and whose might earned him the title of Indra among men. Atri’s son addressed them, saying, “I am not Hari, nor is Śacī my wife, nor is this city or forest the realm of Indra. Indra alone is the slayer of Vṛtra, the wielder of the thunderbolt, thousand-eyed, breaker of enemies, with arms like thunderbolts. I am but a Brahmin, a knower of the Vedas, surrounded by assemblies of Brahmins, dwelling on the bank of the Gautamī. Whether now or in the future, I performed these acts under the force of misfortune, seeking happiness.” Then, turning to Ātreya, the Daityas said, “O best of sages, the sweat of Indra you have removed was but an imitation. Your welfare is assured—it cannot be otherwise.” Ātreya replied, “As you all declare of me here, so indeed shall I act, O greatly fortunate ones. By truth, I invoke the sacred fire.” Having spoken thus, he addressed the Daityas and then turned to Tvaṣṭṛ, the divine craftsman. “Whatever you have done here, O Tvaṣṭṛ, out of affection for me—this position of Indra—withdraw it quickly; protect me, a Brahmin sage. Restore to me my hermitage with its deer, birds, trees, and water as before. I have no use for divine things. All that has come to me out of order does not bring happiness to the wise.” Tvaṣṭṛ agreed, saying, “So be it,” and withdrew the boon. The Daityas returned to their own places, leaving the land peaceful, and Tvaṣṭṛ too departed, smiling. Ātreya, surrounded by his disciples and wife, remained by the Gautamī. Devoted to austerity, he lived on the riverbank, and during a great sacrifice, he spoke in shame, “Alas, such is the power of delusion—even my mind was led astray! What use had I for the position of Mahendra? What did I do here before?” As Ātreya spoke thus, the gods addressed him, “Cast off your shame, O mighty-armed one; great renown will be yours. Whoever bathes at the Ātreya Tīrtha, all living beings, will easily obtain merit. They will become like Indra, enjoying happiness just by remembering this place. Here, the wise declare, are five thousand sacred bathing places. Named after Indra, Ātreya, and the Daityas, these are celebrated; bathing and giving gifts here bestow inexhaustible merit.” Having spoken thus, the gods departed, and the sage was filled with satisfaction. Now, there is a holy place called Kapilāsaṃgama, renowned throughout the three worlds. O Nārada, let me tell you a most excellent and sacred story of that place. There lived a sage named Kapila, famed for his knowledge of truth, both stern and gracious, devoted to austerity and vows. As he practiced penance on the bank of the Gautamī, the sages Vāmadeva and others approached him and spoke. They said, “After Vena was slain and righteousness lost, the kingdom was left without a ruler by the curse of the Brahmins. With the Veda vanished and righteousness gone, what should be done, O best of sages?” Kapila meditated deeply and then addressed the gathered sages, “By churning Vena’s thigh, someone will arise from it.” The sages followed his instructions and churned Vena’s thigh. From it emerged a great sinner, dark in color and fierce in strength. The sages, frightened, said, “Sit down!” Thus he became Niṣāda, and from him the Niṣādas were born. Then, the sages churned Vena’s right arm, which was endowed with righteousness, and from it arose Pṛthu, possessing a mighty voice and all auspicious marks. Pṛthu became king, glorious and empowered by Brahma. All the gods came to him, honored him, and granted him auspicious boons, including weapons and mantras full of virtues. The assembly of sages, along with Kapila, then said to Pṛthu, “Provide sustenance for living beings, for the herbs of the earth have been consumed.” That best of kings took up his bow and addressed the earth, “Give back the herbs that have been consumed, for the welfare of the people.