Thus it is that, in the radiant domain of the Sun, various beings—each in their appointed pairs—reside for two months at a time. Alongside them dwell the Grāmaṇyas, the Yakṣas, and the chief among the Yātudhānas. It is said that these mighty ones remove the inauspicious deeds of living beings, dispelling misfortune for those who act righteously, wherever they may be. By their power, rain falls, warmth is given, and joy is brought to all creatures. This is the honored station of those who take pride in their place, especially during the great cycles of the Manvantaras. Throughout all fourteen Manvantaras, these groups are ever present. The Sun himself moves in accordance with the seasons, his revolving rays nourishing gods, ancestors, and humankind alike. During the bright fortnight of the lunar month, on the appointed full day, the gods drink of his essence in order; during the dark fortnight, it is the ancestors who partake, along with the gods, the gentle beings, and the Kāvyas. Mortals, too, are sustained—nourished by rain and the herbs that spring forth—overcoming hunger with food and drink. The Sun continually bestows this sustenance, granting food to mortals, supporting them with his heat and with the gift of cows. When the time of release comes, Savitā, the Sun, once again upholds all that moves and does not move. At that moment, he releases his hold, and Hari, the radiant one, is gathered up by swift horses. Upon these auspicious, flawless steeds, the movement prescribed by the Vedas is accomplished. With seven horses, the Sun traverses the seven continents and oceans. These horses, possessed of forms at will and swifter than the mind, are harnessed to his left side in an instant. With their power, they encircle eighty-three hundred orbs in the course of a year. From the very beginning of the kalpa, these horses, so harnessed, carry him until the time of the great dissolution. Throughout, the Sun is praised by great sages with excellent and well-composed hymns. The lord of the day journeys on, drawn by winged steeds and celestial horses. Ten are harnessed to his chariot—five on the left and five on the right—and thus he moves in his celestial path. The rays he sends forth wax and wane, just as the Sun’s own light does. His chariot, with its horses and charioteer, rose from the primordial waters. Upon it are yoked ten slender, divine horses—untiring, swift as thought. Their names are Śveta, Cakṣuḥśravā, Yaju, Caṇḍa, Manas, Vṛṣa, Vājī, Nara, and Haya. These are the ten horses of the Moon, each bearing its own name. Surrounded by gods and ancestors, Soma, the Moon, proceeds on his journey. He is replenished at the end of each half-month, as the days progress. During the waning phase, for fifteen days, the Sun, with a single ray, gradually diminishes him. But when nourished by the ray called Suṣumnā, his shining digits increase. Thus, by the Sun’s power, the Moon is continually nourished. So it is that Soma waxes day by day during the bright fortnight. The very essence of the waters—sap itself—makes up the substance of the Moon. Within half a month, this nectar is drawn together by the Sun’s radiance. Then, for one night, all the gods, together with ancestors and sages, partake of it. As the gods and ancestors consume this nectar, their portions are gradually diminished. In this way, three thousand and three gods drink the Soma. Thus, the bright phases of the Moon wane as the nectar is consumed, and the dark phases are replenished in turn.