The king’s wife, filled with concern for her dear friend, approached the king and spoke with gentle earnestness: “O king, if your mind truly favors me, I ask you for a boon—please grant me what I rightfully deserve.” The king, moved by her words, replied with affection, “Speak without hesitation, whatever you desire. There is nothing I would not give you, O gentle one. I am yours to command in every way.” With humility, the queen explained, “For my sake, my friend suffered a curse from the daughter of a serpent—she has become mute. If, out of love for me, you are able to remedy her condition and restore her speech, why would you not do this for me?” Hearing her plea, the king turned to a learned Brahmin and asked, “What must be done to remove her muteness?” The wise Brahmin answered, “O king, at your command, I shall perform a Sarasvati sacrifice. Let your wife be freed from her debt, and let her friend’s speech be restored.” Thus, the excellent Brahmin performed the Sarasvati sacrifice with great concentration, reciting the sacred hymns to Sarasvati. In the underworld, Garga, now able to speak, exclaimed with gratitude, “This great and difficult favor has been done for me by my friend’s husband!” Regaining her speech, Nanda quickly returned to the city. There, she embraced her queenly friend, the serpent maiden, and together they rejoiced. The serpent maiden, filled with happiness, praised the king again and again with auspicious words. Taking her seat, she spoke sweetly, “O hero, the favor you have done for me has won my heart. Listen now to what I say: Your son, O king, will be of great prowess; his sovereignty will be unconquered on this earth. He will be wise, knowing the essence of all sciences and devoted to dharma. O intelligent one, he will be the lord of the manvantara—he will indeed be Manu.” Having granted this boon, the serpent king’s daughter embraced her friend and returned to the underworld. Meanwhile, the lord of the earth, the king, enjoyed his days in happiness, protecting his subjects for a long time. In time, a son was born to the great king, radiant and complete like the full moon on its brightest night. At his birth, the people rejoiced, divine drums resounded, and a shower of flowers fell from above. Seeing his handsome form, his promising future, and noble character, the assembled sages named him ‘Uttama.’ Born in an excellent lineage, at an auspicious time, and endowed with splendid features, he became known as Uttama. Markandeya continued: Uttama’s son, also renowned by the name ‘Uttama,’ became a Manu. O Bhāguri, listen now to his greatness. Whoever listens to the entire story and the birth of Uttama will never fall into enmity. For one who listens or recites this tale, there will never be separation from beloved wives, sons, or relatives. O Brahmin, listen as I recount his manvantara—hear who was Indra then, and who were the gods and sages. Now, hear another tale. Martanda, son of Rasi and the daughter of Visvakarman, had a wife named Sanjna. In her, Bhanu was born. Manu, famed for his knowledge, was the son of Vivasvat, and so he is called Vaivasvata. One day, Sanjna, unable to bear the Sun’s fierce brilliance, closed her eyes when seen by him. The Sun, angered by this gesture, harshly spoke, “Because you always restrain your eyes when you see me, O foolish one, you will give birth to Yama, the restrainer of beings.” Hearing this, the goddess, fearful, cast a restless glance. Seeing her unsteady eyes, the Sun spoke again, “Because your gaze is now unsteady when you look at me, you will give birth to a daughter, a river named Vilola.” Thus, by her husband’s words, Sanjna gave birth to Yama and to Yamuna, the great and famous river. Yet, Sanjna struggled to endure the Sun’s brilliance and pondered, “What shall I do? Where shall I go? How can I find relief? How will my husband not be angry with me?” Thinking deeply, the daughter of the Lord of creatures decided her father’s house was her best refuge. Resolving to go, the illustrious Sanjna created from herself a shadow-form, dear to the Sun. She instructed her, “Just as I have behaved in Bhanu’s house, so you must conduct yourself with his children and with the Sun himself. Even if questioned, do not speak of my departure—always say: ‘I am Sanjna by name.’” The shadow, called Chaya, replied, “O goddess, by grasping my hair and by your command, I will do as you say and tell the truth only when compelled by a curse.” With these arrangements, Sanjna went to her father’s house, where she saw Tvashtar, purified by his austerities. Honored by Vishvakarman, she stayed in her father’s house for some time, blameless. But her father, noticing she did not linger long, addressed his beautiful-limbed daughter, praising her with love and great respect.