King Pṛthu, renowned for his virtue and compassion, addressed the Earth with a heartfelt request: “O virtuous one, swiftly grant the desires of all beings, both moving and unmoving, for the welfare of the world.” The Earth responded in kind, and so, with Svāyambhuva Manu as the calf, King Pṛthu himself milked the Earth, drawing forth pure sustenance—food by which all living creatures thrive. Afterward, the sages took their turn. They made Soma the calf, and Bṛhaspati became the milker, using the Veda as their vessel. From the Earth, they drew the essence of austerity. The gods, too, milked the Earth: Mitra served as their milker, with Indra as the calf, and their golden vessel brimmed with strength-giving nectar. For the ancestors, a silver vessel was used; Antaka became the milker and Yama the calf, yielding the sacred svadhā. The nāgas, using a gourd as their vessel and Takṣaka as the calf, received poison as their milk. Even the asuras, with Dhṛtarāṣṭra as their milker and an iron vessel, milked the Earth, causing distress to Indra. Their calf was Virocana, son of Prahlāda, and Dvimūrdhā, as their milker, produced illusion as their essence. The yakṣas, desiring disappearance, made Vaiśravaṇa their calf and used a raw vessel. The hosts of pretas and rākṣasas, with Sumālī as both milker and calf, drew forth fierce blood in a silver vessel. The gandharvas and apsarases, yearning for fragrance, milked the Earth with Citraratha as their calf, collecting the essence on lotus leaves. Vararuci, master of the Nāṭyaveda, became the milker for the mountains, who received various gems. Meru, the great mountain, milked the Earth for divine herbs, with Himavat as the calf and a stone vessel in hand. The trees, too, milked the Earth: Śāla, full of flowering creepers, became their milker, using a palāśa vessel, and Plakṣa served as the calf, yielding sap for cut shoots. Thus, in many forms and with various vessels and calves, the Earth was milked by others, each receiving according to their desires. During Pṛthu’s reign, the kingdom flourished with long life, wealth, and happiness. There was no poverty, illness, or wickedness. Calamity was unknown, and people lived free from suffering and sorrow, always joyful. With the tip of his bow, mighty Pṛthu evened the great mountains, making the Earth’s surface level for the welfare of all. In those days, there were no cities, villages, or fortresses, nor did men bear arms. People did not suffer from decay, nor were they troubled with concerns for wealth. Righteousness alone filled every heart. Whatever people desired, Pṛthu, wise and discerning, granted to them. In all sacrifices and ancestral offerings, all was provided as needed. Because Pṛthu accepted the Earth as his daughter, and due to their mutual affection, she became known among the wise as Pṛthivī. Now, O Sūta, the lineage of the Sun and the Moon is sought. You, who know the truth, are called to recount it in proper order. In ancient times, Vivasvān, born of Kaśyapa and Aditi, had three wives: Saṃjñā, the queen, and also Prabhā. Saṃjñā, daughter of Raivata, bore a son named Revata; Prabhā gave birth to Prabhāta; and Manu was born to Saṃjñā through Tvaṣṭrī. Saṃjñā also bore twins, Yama and Yamunā. Unable to bear the blazing radiance of Vivasvān, Saṃjñā departed. Tvaṣṭrī, the divine artisan, created from her own body a flawless woman, Chāyā, identical in form and radiant in appearance. Saṃjñā said to Chāyā, “O beautiful one, serve my husband as your own and care for my children with a mother’s affection.” With that, Saṃjñā departed for the gods. Vivasvān, believing Chāyā to be Saṃjñā, desired her, and from their union a son resembling Manu was born. Because of his similar complexion, he was named Sāvarṇi, son of Manu Vaivasvata. In due course, Śani, Tapatī, and Viṣṭi were also born to Chāyā. Chāyā, radiant and devoted, loved her own children more than Manu. Manu, the elder, noticed nothing, but Yama, angered by her partiality, threatened her by raising his right foot. In her wrath, Chāyā cursed Yama: “This one foot of yours, wounded and afflicted with worms, shall become the source of pus and blood.” Distressed by this curse, Yama went to his father: “Without cause, I have been cursed by my mother in her anger. It was but childishness that made me raise my foot, and though Manu tried to restrain her, she cursed me, O Lord. Surely, this woman is hardly our mother, for her curse has brought me ruin.” Vivasvān replied, “Who among beings does not suffer from folly or the consequences of actions? If even existence cannot be avoided, what can be said of other creatures?” To remedy the curse, it was decreed that the rooster would devour the worms, removing the moisture and blood, and consuming the affliction’s offspring. Thus, Yama, renowned and steadfast, undertook severe austerity at the sacred Gokarna, living on leaves and air alone, seeking detachment from worldly suffering.