The vital breath that sustains all beings, divided fivefold among humans, entered into the seven elements of the body and traversed the three worlds. This breath is none other than the one called the maker of fire, the lord from whom all arises, who dwells in the seven notes and is ever praised with sacred words. He is named the supreme being, the bodiless one, swift and moving through space, always joined with sound. This is Vayu, the very life of all beings, self-luminous, who stirred and agitated the Daityas, blowing against the clouds. Around him, the Maruts, accompanied by celestial Gandharvas and the hosts of Vidyadharas, sported with shining swords, moving like serpents freed from their old skins. The mighty lords of serpents, generating intense watery poison, moved through the heavens among the gods, their mouths wide open in power. The gods, gathering mountains, rocky peaks, and hundreds of trees, advanced to strike the army of the Daityas. Among them was Hrishikesha, the god with many names: Padmanabha, Trivikrama, the lord of the world, whose path becomes dark at the end of the age. He is the source of all wombs, the slayer of Madhu, the eater of offerings, established in sacrifice, whose essence is earth, water, sky, and all beings—dark-hued, bringer of peace, destroyer of enemies. The slayer of foes among the immortals, bearing the discus and the mace, raised the sun, emerging among the serpents with supreme brilliance. In his left hand he grasped the great mace, the destroyer of all Asuras, whose very form is Kali, bestower of the time of enemies’ destruction. With his other arms, the mighty lord, whose banner bore the serpent, held blazing weapons, including the Sharnga bow and others. He, the self-born son of Kashyapa, twice-born and eater of serpents, moved swifter than the wind—Suparna, the mighty bird who shakes the sky. Adorned with the serpent king placed in his mouth, freed from the beginning of nectar, he shone like Mount Mandara raised high. In the ancient battles between gods and asuras, where his valor was renowned, he bore the mark of Indra’s thunderbolt in the quest for ambrosia. He appeared crested, powerful, adorned with blazing earrings, and clothed in garments of variegated feathers, as radiant as a mountain rich in minerals. His broad, swelling chest shone cool and radiant as the moon’s light, adorned with a shining jewel entwined by the coils of a serpent. With his two beautiful, feathered wings, he playfully covered the sky, like clouds with Indra’s rainbow enveloping the heavens at the end of an age. He was adorned with banners of blue, red, and yellow, concealed in the guise of a banner, the dwelling of a mighty-bodied one. The illustrious Lord, younger brother of Aruna, mounted in battle upon Suparna, the best of sky-farers, whose form gleamed with the color of gold. The hosts of gods and concentrated sages followed him, praising Janardana with sacred words and supreme mantras. That assembly, embraced by Vaishravana and led by Vaivasvata, surrounded by the king of brahmins and graced by the king of gods, shone forth in splendor. Vast as the radiance of the moon, it assembled for battle, roaring with wind-driven sounds and blazing like kindled fire. The army of Vishnu, victorious and radiant, enveloped in darkness by its own power, rose up, tumultuous and mighty, ready for the great conflict. Brihaspati spoke, “May there be welfare for the gods,” and Ushanas replied, “May there be welfare for the host of Danavas.” Then, from these two mighty hosts, a tumultuous conflict arose, as gods and asuras sought victory over one another. The Danavas, together with the gods, armed with many weapons, clashed in battle like mountains colliding with mountains. That wondrous battle, where gods and asuras joined, was mingled with both righteousness and unrighteousness, with pride and humility. Chariots became separated, elephants surged forward, and sword-bearers leapt into the sky on all sides. Maces were hurled, arrows flew, bows were drawn, and clubs were cast down in the heat of combat. The battle became terrible, filled with gods and Danavas, striking terror into the world, resembling the destruction at the end of an age. Iron clubs were thrown by hand, mountains were cast aside, and the Danavas struck the gods in battle, with mighty Indra at their head. Assailed by the Daityas—mighty conquerors of the regions—the gods, their faces fallen, entered into great distress. Struck down by weapons and spears, their heads shattered by iron clubs, their chests broken by the sons of Diti, the gods fell, blood flowing from many wounds. Showers of arrows rained down, rendering the gods helpless; caught in the illusion of the Daityas, they were unable to move. The army of the gods, made powerless and weaponless by the Asuras, appeared as if the sun had set, their forms as lifeless as those without breath. Indra, wide-eyed and resolute, cut down the terrible arrows shot from the Daityas’ bows with his thunderbolt and entered the fierce Daitya army. Having slain the foremost Daityas and that great host of Danavas, he shrouded them in darkness with a net of Tamasic weapons. Overwhelmed by that dreadful darkness created by the power of Indra, they could not recognize one another or even the vehicles of the gods. Freed from the bonds of illusion, the best of the gods, striving with all their might, struck down the bodies of the Daitya leaders, who had become shrouded in darkness. Thus, the great battle raged between the gods and the asuras, a contest of power, valor, and divine will.