Once, Garuḍa, the mighty king of birds, found himself bound in service to the serpents. Troubled in spirit and weighed down by the sorrow of serving on behalf of his mother, he would often withdraw into solitude, sighing deeply as he pondered his fate. In these moments, Garuḍa reflected that truly blessed in this world are those who have performed virtuous deeds, for only the fortunate remain free from servitude and subjugation to others. The self-reliant, he thought, live happily—they sing, sleep, and laugh without care. How pitiable, then, are those who must live under another’s command. Overpowered by such thoughts, Garuḍa, whose mind was vast and discerning, felt great sorrow. He approached his mother, Vinatā, and questioned her with earnest concern: “Mother, whose fault is it—yours, my father’s, or mine—that you have become a servant? Tell me the reason, for I seek to understand.” Vinatā, mother of Garuḍa and the beloved younger brother of Aruṇa, replied to her son with honesty. “No one else is at fault; I declare my own error. It is the one whose word is broken who becomes a servant—this I have learned. I entered into a wager with Kadrū, and by her deceit, I was defeated. Thus, Kadrū became my mistress. Fate, my son, is powerful—there is nothing it cannot accomplish. Because I became a servant to Kadrū, you too, O twice-born one, were bound to serve.” Hearing this, Garuḍa was deeply distressed. He fell silent, saying nothing more to his mother, and pondered the inscrutable ways of destiny. One day, Kadrū, seeking the well-being of her own sons and her own prosperity, spoke to Vinatā, the mother of the bird. She remarked, “Your son goes to salute the sun unhindered; indeed, you are blessed in all the three worlds, even though you are a servant.” Vinatā, though astonished and concealing her own sorrow, replied, “But why do your sons not go to see the sun?” Kadrū answered, “Fortunate one, take my sons to the abode of the serpents; near the ocean is a cool lake where they dwell.” Thus, Suparṇa—another name for Garuḍa—carried the serpents, along with Kadrū and Vinatā, to that place. Afterward, Kadrū, delighted, spoke again to Vinatā, and addressed Garuḍa, the leader of the birds, with humility. “My sons desire to see the swan, guru of the three worlds. After offering their respects, they wish to proceed to the sun, which is my abode. Each day, please lead my sons to the solar sphere.” Vinatā, trembling and distressed, spoke to Kadrū, “I am not able, O mother of serpents; my son will not lead your children. Let them return after seeing the sun god.” She then said to her son, the lord of the birds, “The serpents wish to offer their respects, having attained mastery. The mother of serpents has asked me, ‘Lead us to the radiant one.’” Garuḍa consented, saying, “So be it,” and allowed the serpents to climb onto his back. The army of serpents mounted Garuḍa, who carried them slowly toward the place where the sun god dwelled. But as they drew near, the fierce heat of the sun scorched them, and they trembled in distress. “Turn back, O wise one!” the serpents cried. “Salutations to the sun-bird! Enough of the sun’s abode—we are burned by the sun’s radiance. Take us away, Garuḍa, or we will leave you and go ourselves.” Hearing their pleas, Garuḍa said, “I will show you the sun.” With those words, he swiftly soared through the sky, facing the sun. The serpents, however, could not bear the heat. Their bodies aflame, they fell to the island of reeds below—hundreds of thousands, afflicted and scorched. Hearing the anguished cries of her sons as they tumbled to earth, Kadrū was overcome with distress and hurried to comfort them. She turned to Vinatā and said, “Your son has committed a great wrong, acting with excessive malice. For such as him, there is no peace. What else could be done? The lord of serpents must follow the master’s command. If the great sage Kāśyapa, radiant with splendor, were here, no harm would have come.” “How, then, can there be peace for my sons, O beautiful one?” Kadrū asked. Vinatā, hearing these words, became extremely fearful. She spoke to her son, the great-hearted Garuḍa: “This is not proper, my son. We must act with humility, not pride. What you have done is not fitting; such reversal is not appropriate. The virtuous should never act deceitfully, even toward enemies. Just as the moon shines equally on all, whether learned or outcaste, so too should we act with fairness. Those who cannot act openly, my son, resort to harmful deeds by trickery; the base, unable to act directly, resort to force.” Then Vinatā turned to Kadrū, the mother of serpents, and asked, “What can I do to bring peace to your sons? I will do it. Old age has seized them—tell me, and I will bring them relief.” Kadrū replied, “Peace will come to my sons if they are anointed with the water from Rasātala.” Upon hearing this, Vinatā quickly fetched the water from Rasātala and anointed the serpents with it. Then Garuḍa spoke to Maghavān, Indra, the wielder of a hundred sacrifices: “Let the clouds rain here, for the benefit of the three worlds.” Thus, the rain-god poured down his showers, and the serpents found well-being. The water from Rasātala, born of the sacred Ganges, restored and revived the serpents, bringing peace at last.