O hero, your recent act of kindness has truly won my heart. Listen carefully to what I now say. Your son, O king, will possess extraordinary prowess; his wheel of sovereignty shall remain unconquered throughout the earth. He will be wise, understanding the essence of all sciences, and devoted to the practice of dharma. O intelligent one, he will become the lord of the manvantara—he will indeed be Manu. Having granted this boon, the serpent king’s daughter warmly embraced her friend and returned to the underworld. There, the king, lord of the earth, enjoyed his life with her, protecting his subjects as time passed. Eventually, a son was born to the great king—a child as radiant and complete as the full moon on its brightest night. When this noble child was born, joy spread among all people; divine drums resounded in celebration, and flowers showered down from above. The assembled sages, seeing his handsome form, noble character, and bright future, bestowed upon him the name ‘Uttama.’ Born in that illustrious lineage, at such an auspicious time and with excellent features, he would be known as Uttama. Markandeya continued: The son of Uttama, renowned by the same name, became a Manu. O Bhāguri, listen to his greatness as I recount it. Whoever regularly listens to the story and birth of Uttama is never overcome by enmity. For those who listen or recite it, there will never be separation from beloved wives, sons, or relatives. O Brahmin, hear now as I describe his manvantara, and learn who was Indra then, as well as the gods and sages of that era. Now, Martanda, son of Rasi and the daughter of Visvakarman, had a wife named Sanjna. In her, Bhanu was born. Manu, renowned and accomplished in many kinds of knowledge, was the son of Vivasvat—thus, he is called Vaivasvata. One day, Sanjna, when seen by the Sun, closed her eyes. The Sun, angered by this gesture, harshly addressed her: “Because you always restrain your eyes when you see me, O foolish one, you will give birth to Yama, the restrainer of beings.” Markandeya explained that then, the goddess, fearful, cast a restless glance; seeing her eyes unsteady, 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 curse, Yama and Yamuna, the great and famous river, were born to Sanjna. Yet the radiant Sanjna struggled to endure the Sun’s brilliance; unable to bear it, she began to ponder: “What shall I do? Where shall I go? Where can I find relief? How will my husband not be angry with me?” Thinking in many ways, the daughter of the Lord of creatures decided that seeking shelter in her father’s house was best. Resolved to depart, the illustrious Sanjna created from herself a shadow-form, dear to the Sun. She instructed this shadow, “Just as I have behaved in the house of Bhanu, so you must conduct yourself properly with his children, as with the Sun himself. Even if questioned, do not speak of my departure; always say only this: 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.” Thus instructed, Sanjna went to her father’s house and saw Tvashtar, purified of sin by his austerities. Honored with great respect by Vishvakarman, she remained in her father’s house for some time, blameless. Yet her father, noticing she did not stay long, addressed his beautiful-limbed daughter with love and praise: “O child, even if I see you for many days, to me those days seem like only half a moment; but righteousness is diminished. For women, a long stay among relatives does not bring honor; relatives wish that a woman should remain in her husband’s house. United with your husband, the lord of the three worlds, the Sun, you should not, my daughter, dwell long in your father’s house. Go, therefore, to your husband’s house; I am pleased, you have honored me. But you must return again to see me, O auspicious one.” Markandeya said: Thus addressed by her father, Sanjna replied, “So be it,” and after honoring him, she departed for the northern Kurus. Not wishing to endure the Sun’s heat and fearing his radiance, she performed austerities there, assuming the form of a mare. Meanwhile, thinking this shadow-form was Sanjna, the Sun, for his second wife, begot two sons and one beautiful daughter. Chaya was exceedingly affectionate toward her own children, but not so toward Sanjna’s daughter and her two sons. In caressing and enjoyment, she made distinctions day by day. Manu, patient by nature, endured it, but Yama could not tolerate such treatment. In anger, he raised his foot to strike her, but Chaya, being forbearing, did not let it fall upon her body.