In ancient times, there were Yakṣas, Rākṣasas, Gandharvas, and Apsarases, each with their own distinctive vessels, milkers, and the milk itself—just as the many forms of milk are carefully examined, one after another, by the great sages of old. Now, seeking to understand the cause behind these ways, the sages implored: “Tell us, O best of the twice-born, with single-minded diligence and attentive listening, the secret behind this path. But remember, O Brahman, this sacred knowledge must not be revealed to one who lives without vows. It is a secret spoken by wise sages—let only those free from envy hear it.” Those who bow reverently to the Brāhmaṇas, living without regret for what is done or left undone, are fit to learn this tale. In the lineage of the sage Atri, a Prajāpati named Aṅga was born. He was the son of Sunīthā, the daughter of Mṛtyu. Aṅga performed righteousness to its utmost, but eventually, desire stirred within him for the pleasures of the worlds. Turning away from the Vedas and scriptures, he became devoted to unrighteousness. At this time, during the great sacrifices, the gods ceased to drink soma. A cruel vow arose, heralding destruction: “Sacrifices must be performed for me, offerings must be made to me,” it was declared. All the great sages, led by Marīci, admonished him: “Do not act unrighteously; this is not the eternal dharma. You promised to protect the people.” But Vena, of wicked mind, laughed, and though knowledgeable, spoke knowingly: “By my power, austerity, and truth, who on earth is equal to me? I am the origin of all worlds, and especially of their laws of righteousness. Whether I create or destroy, there is no need for deliberation here.” The great sages, angered by Vena’s arrogance, sought to restrain him. In their fury, they churned his left hand, and from it emerged a man, exceedingly short and dark in color. Seeing him distressed and bewildered, the sages told him, “Sit down.” From Vena’s impurity, he produced fishermen, and those born of this impurity were inclined toward unrighteousness. Still filled with fierce anger, the sages churned again, as fire-sticks are churned to kindle flame. From this churning, a noble son was born from Prithu’s palm, and thus he was called Prithu. He took up the primordial bow named Ajagava, which resounded greatly, announcing his arrival. All beings rejoiced at Prithu’s birth. A royal sage now stood among them, endowed with a noble son. Rivers and oceans brought him all kinds of jewels as tribute. The blessed Pitamaha, together with Angiras and the gods, assembled and anointed the descendant of Vena as king. Thus, the great king was consecrated by the sons of Angiras among the gods. His subjects, once estranged from their father, were won over by Prithu’s virtue. As he approached the ocean, the waters themselves restrained him. The earth, in his reign, yielded crops without the need for plowing; food was produced by mere thought alone.