O child, said the father with deep affection, even if I were to see you for many days, to me those days would seem but half a moment; yet, righteousness is diminished in their prolongation. For a woman, he continued, a long stay among her relatives does not bring her honor—relatives wish that a woman should dwell in her husband’s house. You, my daughter, are united with your husband, the lord of the three worlds, the Sun himself; you should not remain long in your father’s house. Go, therefore, to your husband’s home; I am pleased, for you have honored me as a daughter should. But you must return again to see me, O auspicious one. Thus, when her father had spoken, Sanjna replied, “So be it.” Honoring her father, she set out to the northern Kurus. There, not wishing to endure the fierce heat of the Sun nor his dazzling radiance, Sanjna performed austerities, assuming the form of a mare. Meanwhile, the Sun, thinking the one before him was Sanjna, took Chaya as his second wife and begot two sons and a beautiful daughter with her. Chaya showed great affection toward her own children, but not so toward Sanjna’s daughter and her two sons. Day by day, in her caresses and enjoyments, she made distinctions among the children. Manu, patient by nature, endured her partiality, but Yama could not tolerate it. In anger, Yama raised his foot to strike Chaya. Yet, she, forbearant, did not allow his foot to fall upon her body. Then Chaya, her lips trembling slightly and her hands unsteady with anger, uttered a curse upon Yama: “Because you, disregarding propriety, threaten me, your father’s wife, with your foot, therefore today your foot will fall to the earth.” Hearing this curse pronounced by his mother, Yama, filled with fear, approached his father, the Sun, and, bowing before him, spoke: “Father, this is a great wonder, unheard of by anyone—that a mother, abandoning affection, should lay a curse upon her son. As Manu has declared, and so is my own view: even if her sons are at fault, a mother herself does not become faulty.” When the Sun heard these words of Yama, the blessed dispeller of darkness summoned Chaya and asked her where she had gone. She replied, “I am Sanjna, daughter of Tvashtar, wife of Vivasvat; these children of yours were born from me.” But when Vivasvat, the Sun, questioned her repeatedly, she did not reveal the truth. Then, angered, the radiant one prepared to curse her. Seeing this, Chaya told Vivasvat everything as it had happened. When the blessed one understood, he went to the house of Tvashtar. There, he who is worshipped throughout the three worlds was honored with supreme devotion by Tvashtar, his father-in-law. When the Sun inquired about Sanjna, Vishvakarman, the divine architect, told him, “She has come here to my house, sent by you.” The Sun, absorbed in meditation, saw her in the northern Kurus, practicing austerities in the form of a mare. He understood her intention in performing these austerities: “May my husband have a gentle form and auspicious appearance.” The radiant one then said to Vishvakarman, Sanjna’s father, “Let my brilliance be diminished today.” Thus, Vishvakarman, praised by the gods, after a year of effort, reduced the Sun’s brilliance. Markandeya continued: Hear now in detail from me the origin of Savarni, the eighth Manu, son of the Sun, as it is recounted. By the power of the great Maya, Savarni, the illustrious son of the Sun, became the lord of a Manvantara. In the previous Svarocisha Manvantara, there was a king named Suratha, born in the lineage of Chitra, who ruled the entire earth. While he was properly protecting his subjects, as if they were sons born from his own body, enemies arose against him—kings who destroyed his lineage and power. A battle took place between Suratha, who wielded great authority, and those destroyers of his line. Though they were fewer, Suratha was defeated by them in that battle. Returning to his own city, he continued as ruler of his land, but at that time he was beset by those powerful enemies. There, in his own city, his treasury and army were seized by his ministers, who were strong but wicked, and by evil-minded men who took advantage of his weakness. Then, under the pretense of hunting, that king, having lost his sovereignty, mounted a horse alone and entered the dense forest. There he saw the hermitage of the illustrious sage Medhas, peaceful and free from wild beasts, adorned by the presence of the sage and his disciples. Suratha stayed there for some time, honored by the sage, and wandered here and there within the great sage’s hermitage. In that place, his mind drawn by attachment, he began to reflect: “The city once protected by my ancestors and by me is now lost; those servants of mine, with their wicked conduct, may or may not be protecting it righteously. I do not know whether my chief, the brave and ever-proud elephant-warrior, now under the power of my enemies, will enjoy any pleasures. Those who always followed me, receiving my favor, wealth, and food, surely now serve other kings. Because of their constant wastefulness and improper spending, the treasury, accumulated with great difficulty, will soon be depleted.” With such thoughts troubling his heart, the king kept pondering these matters and others. Then, near the sage’s hermitage, he saw a merchant.