He stood before the chariot, troubled, and asked, “How shall I fight in battle? How can I restrain the horses at the same time?” Yet, he resolved, “I must destroy the enemies—there is no other way, by any means.” It was pointed out to him, “There are horses here already; you must yourself restrain them.” As the weight of this responsibility pressed upon him, he collapsed to the ground, his garland and garments slipping away. At that moment, the earth itself trembled at the sight of mighty Indra falling. His wife, witnessing this, gently said, “Lord, take the child outside as you wish.” She added, “Listen, lord, to what the astrologer has declared: Whatever is outside, O best of sages, will become double, O sage.” Without delay, the Brahmin swiftly cast the child outside onto the ground, reasoning that the appointed time had passed and now only half the predicted harm would occur. To his amazement, he saw two children before him, both appearing identical. Perplexed, he said, “I do not know the truth of what I am asking; tell me that.” He pressed further, “And now tell me about his fortunes and the deeds that have been spoken of.” Insistent, he declared, “Tell me today itself, or else I will not eat food.” The astrologer answered, “What you have anxiously asked today—what will this child become?” Meanwhile, the expert charioteer approached to assist Indra. Knowing he was aiding the king of the gods, he shone with even greater brilliance. “Come here, O Lord of the gods; I will gladly be your charioteer,” he offered. Indra, still uncertain, asked, “How will you control the horses? A doubt arises in my mind.” But this charioteer, endowed with the radiance of the Gandharvas, was skilled in the art of driving horses. This illustrious son of a Brahmin was named Mātali. Mātali, son of Śamīka, took hold of the reins with practiced hands. Entering the field, the glorious one saw a mighty, fallen ploughman. From the hand of the best of gods, he took up a straight arrow, pale as the moon. After bowing in reverence, he set the arrow, with its string, upon the bow. These weapons, bearing the names of Brahmā, Śiva, and Viṣṇu, were unleashed and destroyed the asuras in the thick of battle. O Nārada, the thousand-eyed Indra covered the enemies with exceedingly sharp weapons. The mighty foe, struck by an arrow, immediately fell to the earth, overcome. The enemy’s army, now mostly deprived of its leaders, was thus routed and defeated. Jambhāsura, seizing his terrible mace, advanced against the imperishable Lord of the gods. Viṣṇu struck down Kujambha with great force; he fell lifeless from his chariot to the ground. Filled with fury, Jambhāsura rushed at Śakra in battle, like a lion attacking an elephant, his mind utterly deranged. He seized a spear, like Yama’s rod, given by Agni, and hurled it at his foe. Swiftly, Indra reduced his mace to ashes and pierced Jambha in the heart. Seeing Jambha fallen and unconscious, the Daityas became afraid and fled. They praised the might of Indra, and that son of Gotrabhit stood by Shiva’s side in victory. Then a call rang out: “Come, come, hero, to the house, great Asura; let us again fight, having come to the mountain. I will not leave the battlefield—I declare my lineage myself. I will conquer the gods, Dānavas, Gandharvas, along with Indra and Maheshvara.” With these words, he comforted and spoke sweetly to Shambhu, the charioteer, preparing once more for battle.