As the great war approached, the world was gripped by terrifying omens. The images of the gods, usually serene and majestic, now cried out with deep voices, billowed smoke, and blazed with unnatural fire, revealing their fear for all to see. Wild and domestic animals, along with birds, gathered together in confusion and filled the air with dreadful sounds, their cries mingling in a chorus of distress. Nature itself turned against its order. Rivers began to flow backwards, carrying foul waters, and the quarters of the sky vanished behind swirling clouds of red dust. The sacred forest trees, once revered and worshipped, were neglected and battered, their branches struck, broken, and bent by the relentless force of the wind. Even the shadows of all beings ceased to change, remaining fixed as the sun passed into the afternoon—a sign of the end of the age of the worlds. Within the palace of the Daitya king Hiraṇyakaśipu, strange phenomena occurred: honey mysteriously appeared in the storehouse and the armory. These and many other terrible omens, dreadful to behold, arose for the destruction of the Asuras and the coming victory of the gods. All these fierce portents, created by Time itself, were seen as harbingers of the Daitya king’s downfall. The earth trembled violently. The mighty Hiraṇyakaśipu, with his immense power, caused mountains to fall and the hosts of serpents—creatures of great strength—to be thrown down. Serpents with four, five, and even seven heads, their mouths blazing with poison and fire, released flames in their wrath. Among them were the great serpents: Vāsuki, Takṣaka, Karkoṭa, Dhanaṃjaya, Elāmukha, Kāliya, and the mighty Mahāpadma. Even Śeṣa, Ananta—the thousand-headed serpent, lord with a golden banner, steadfast and hard to shake—was shaken. The blazing supports of the earth, those beings dwelling in the waters below, trembled in every direction, agitated by the wrathful one. These serpents, full of energy and moving through the depths of the underworld, felt the touch of Hiraṇyakaśipu as he pressed upon the earth, his lips tightly drawn in anger, like an ancient boar. The great rivers of Bhāratavarṣa—Bhagirathi, Sarayu, Kausiki, Yamuna, Kaveri, Krishna-Vena, the deep-flowing Suvena, and the illustrious Godavari—were all disturbed. Carmanvati, Sindhu, the lord of rivers, Kamala-prabhava, and Shona with waters shining like jewels, Narmada with her pure waters, Vetravati, Gomati crowded with cattle, and the ancient Sarasvati—all these rivers quaked. Mahi, Kalama-hi, Tamasā with her flowers, Jambudvipa and Ratnavata adorned with jewels, Suvarna-prakata shining with gold, and the great river Lauhitya, beautified by mountains and forests, were all affected. Cities and regions were shaken: Pattana, with its treasury and sages; the villages of Magadhas, Mundas, and Shungas; the lands of the Suhmas, Mallas, Videhas, Malavas, and Kashi-Kosalas. Even the dwelling of Garuda, crafted by Viśvakarma and resembling the peak of Kailāsa, trembled. The terrifying ocean Lauhitya, with its red waters, was disturbed, as were the great mountains. The mountain Udaya, rising a hundred yojanas high with a golden platform, gleamed as clouds gathered around it, its golden trees shining like the sun. Nearby stood Ayomukha, adorned with minerals, and the auspicious Malaya, fragrant with tamala groves. The lands of Surashtra and Bahlika, the valiant Shurabhiras, Bhojas, Pandyas, Vangas, Kalingas, Tamraliptakas, Undras, Paundras, Vamacudas, and the people of Kerala—all were shaken, along with the hosts of gods and apsaras. The once-inaccessible abode of Agastya, the assembly of siddhas and charanas, was scattered. The region, filled with wondrous birds and blossoming trees, its golden peaks resounding with the songs of apsaras, was unsettled. The mountain Giripushpitaka, rich and beautiful, rose up from the ocean, its peaks seeming to scratch the sky, providing rest for the moon and sun. It shone with great brilliance, enveloped by ocean waters and adorned with lightning, stretching a hundred yojanas. There, lightning flashed upon the lofty mountain Ṛṣabha. Nearby stood the splendid mountain Kuñjara, where the auspicious abode of Agastya was found—a formidable city, dwelling place of serpents. Bhogavatī, the city of serpents, was shaken, as were the great mountains Mahāsena and Pāriyātra, Cakravān and Vārāha. The golden city of Prāgjyotiṣa, where the wicked demon Naraka resided, was disturbed. The great mountain Megha resounded with thunderous roars. In that region, O best of the twice-born, sixty thousand mountains could be found. Meru, the greatest among them, shone with the radiance of a young sun. Its caves were always frequented by Yakṣas, Rākṣasas, and Gandharvas. Hemagarbha and Hemasakha, the golden mountains, stood nearby. Even Kailāsa, the lord of mountains, was shaken by the Daitya king, and the lake Vaikhānasa, covered with golden lotuses, lay radiant amidst the turmoil. Thus, all of creation—rivers, mountains, cities, and divine abodes—was shaken by the wrath and power of Hiraṇyakaśipu, as dreadful omens heralded the end of his reign and the coming victory of the gods.