In the ancient days, a terrible demon arose—wicked of soul—who tormented the sages and the very Vedas themselves in every possible way. Such was his might and cruelty that, throughout the three worlds, none could be found who was capable of slaying him. To answer this dire need, it was declared that the head of a horse, resplendent and beautiful, would be taken and joined to the body of Lord Vishnu by Tvashta, the divine artisan. Thus, when this was accomplished, the blessed form of Hayagriva would arise, and he would destroy that sinful and merciless Danava, bringing relief and welfare to the gods. Having thus spoken to the assembled deities, Sharvani fell silent. The gods, greatly pleased by this revelation, turned to Tvashta, the celestial craftsman, and addressed him: “Accomplish this task for the sake of the gods—join the horse’s head to Vishnu. In this form as Hayagriva, he will slay the foremost among the Daityas, that dreadful Danava.” Hearing the gods’ command, Tvashta acted swiftly. With a sword, he cut off the horse’s head in the presence of all the gods, and, without delay, he attached it to the body of Vishnu. By the wondrous power of Maya, Hari assumed the form of Hayagriva. Not long after, that arrogant Danava, drunk on his own power, was struck down with great force in battle by the might of Hayagriva, the enemy of the gods. Thus was the demon’s tyranny ended. It is said that those on earth who listen to this sacred and auspicious narrative are freed from all suffering—there can be no doubt. The story of the great Maya is pure and destroys all sin; for those who recite or listen to it, it bestows every prosperity. At this point, the sages, eager for more, addressed Suta: “Gentle one, you have told us of the battle of Shauri in the great ocean, the conflict with Madhu and Kaitabha, which raged for five thousand years. But tell us, why were these two Danavas born in that single ocean of water, possessing such immense strength that even the gods found them difficult to overcome? How did these Asuras come into being, and by what means did Hari slay them? O wise one, relate to us this most wondrous tale. We all long to hear it, and you are the most learned among us. By the workings of fate, we are united here and blessed by your presence.” The sages continued: “To associate with a fool is worse than poison, but to be with the wise is like tasting nectar’s very essence. All creatures live, eat, and pass waste; they know the objects of the senses and the fleeting pleasures of union. But those who lack discernment between real and unreal, who have no discrimination and seek no liberation—know them to be like animals, especially those who have no reverence for hearing sacred stories. Some animals, like deer, enjoy the pleasure of hearing, but serpents, lacking ears, are deprived of that joy. Of the five senses, hearing and sight are most auspicious: through hearing comes knowledge, and through sight, delight of the mind.” “Hearing, O noble one, is said by the wise to be of three kinds: sāttvika, rājasika, and tāmasika. Sāttvika hearing is of the Vedas and scriptures; rājasika is of literature; tāmasika concerns war and the faults of others. Even sāttvika hearing is threefold: superior, which yields liberation; middling, which brings heaven; and inferior, which brings mere enjoyment. Literature, too, is threefold: one’s own is superior, that of a courtesan is middling, and that of another’s wife is inferior. Tāmasika hearing is also threefold: fighting aggressors is superior, fighting from enmity is middling, and quarrelling without cause is inferior. Therefore, O wise one, hearing the Purāṇa is supreme—it increases understanding, brings merit, and destroys sin. So, O intelligent one, narrate to us the auspicious Purāṇic tale, as you have heard it from Vyāsa, which brings every good.” Suta replied, “You are indeed blessed, O noble sages, and so am I, for you desire to listen and I have the chance to speak.” He began his narration: “Long ago, when all the three worlds had dissolved into the one cosmic ocean, Lord Janārdana, the Lord of the gods, lay asleep upon the great serpent-bed. From the wax of Vishnu’s ears there arose two mighty Danavas, Madhu and Kaitabha. These two, great in strength, grew in the waters of the ocean, their bodies vast and powerful. There, they wandered and played, absorbed in the sport of the boundless sea. As time passed, the two began to ponder deeply: ‘Nothing happens without cause; this is the law of the universe. Without a support, nothing supported can exist; yet the relationship between support and supported is elusive to the mind. Where does this vast, pleasing water come from? Who created it, and how did it arise? Immersed in it, how do we remain afloat? And how were we ourselves born, and by whom? Where are our parents? We know nothing of this.’ Thus, as they sought understanding, they found no answers. Then, Kaitabha spoke to Madhu, who stood nearby in the waters: ‘Brother, our ability to remain in this water is due to a great, unshakable power. I believe she is the cause. She pervades this water and supports it. She is the supreme Goddess, and likewise the cause of our own existence.’ As the two demons thus reflected and grew thoughtful, at that very moment, they heard in the sky a seed-syllable, most delightful to the mind—a sign that their search for knowledge was about to lead them further on their fateful path.