Thus it was that, after the gods had bowed down and sung his praises, Hari—the creator and sustainer of the universe—regarded them with a gracious gaze and spoke. “O gods,” he said, “I shall restore your strength. Tell me, what is it that you wish me to do for you?” The gods replied, and Hari instructed them, “Bring together all the potent herbs from the earth, and gather the Daityas as well. Go to the Ocean of Milk. Use Mount Mandara as your churning rod, and let Vāsuki, the king of serpents, serve as your rope. With my assistance, let the gods churn the ocean, and let the Daityas, through conciliation, join you in this great cooperative endeavor. You shall promise to share the fruits of your labor, and when nectar arises from the churning of the ocean, by drinking it, you gods will become strong and immortal. I will ensure that only the gods, and not the Daityas, obtain the nectar; the others will gain only the fruit of their toil.” Having received these words from the Lord of the gods, the devas made a pact with the asuras. Together, both hosts strove for the nectar of immortality. The gods, Daityas, and Dānavas gathered many kinds of herbs and cast them into the shining waters of the Milk Ocean, which gleamed like autumn clouds entwined with creepers. They placed Mount Mandara as the churning rod in the midst of the ocean, and wound Vāsuki around it as the churning rope. The gods, holding Vāsuki’s tail, and the Daityas, placed by Krishna’s arrangement at his head, began to churn vigorously. But as they pulled, the Daityas at Vāsuki’s head were scorched by the fire of his breath and lost their strength, becoming dispirited. Meanwhile, the wind from Vāsuki’s mouth created thick clouds that rained upon the gods at the tail, refreshing and invigorating them. In the midst of the churning, Lord Hari himself took the form of a great tortoise to serve as the base beneath Mount Mandara, supporting the mountain as it turned. Assuming yet another form among the gods, bearing discus and mace, he pulled upon the serpent king; while among the Daityas, he took yet another guise. With a vast and mighty form, Keshava supported the mountain from above, and, with a form unseen by gods and asuras alike, infused his energy into Vāsuki and strengthened the gods. As the churning continued, the first to arise from the Milk Ocean was Surabhi, the revered celestial cow, giver of offerings. Both gods and Daityas rejoiced, though their minds were restless and their eyes bewildered at the wonders unfolding. Next appeared Varuni, the goddess of wine, her eyes rolling with intoxication, as those of pure faith wondered at the sight. From the swirling waters, spreading fragrance throughout the world, emerged Parijata, the celestial tree, a delight of threefold joy. Then, endowed with beauty, nobility, and virtue, arose the wondrous host of apsaras, the celestial nymphs. The moon followed, and Maheshvara, O Shiva, took it for himself. The nagas claimed the deadly poison that also emerged from the ocean’s depths. Then Dhanvantari, the divine physician, clad in radiant white garments and holding a full water-pot, arose, bearing the nectar of immortality. At this, the Daityas and Dānavas, their vigor restored, rejoiced with their companions. Suddenly, radiant and resplendent, standing upon a blossoming lotus, the goddess Śrī—Lakṣmī herself—emerged from the waters, supported by the lotus. The great sages, filled with joy, praised her with hymns, while the Gandharvas, led by Viśāvasu, sang before her. The hosts of Apsarases, led by Ghṛtācī, danced in delight, and all the sacred rivers, beginning with Gaṅgā, brought their waters for her bath. The guardians of the directions bathed the goddess with pure water from golden vessels, honoring her as the sovereign of all worlds. The Ocean of Milk, taking a visible form, presented her with a garland of unfading lotuses, while Viśvakarman, the divine artisan, fashioned ornaments for her. Adorned in divine garments, bathed, garlanded, and resplendent, she approached Hari and took her place upon his chest as all the gods looked on. When Lakṣmī, standing upon Hari’s chest, cast her gaze upon the gods, they were instantly filled with supreme joy. But the Daityas, led by Vipracitti, having been abandoned by Lakṣmī and turned away from Viṣṇu, became agitated and deeply distressed. At that moment, the Daityas seized the water-pot held by Dhanvantari, in which was the coveted nectar. But Viṣṇu, assuming the enchanting form of a woman, beguiled them through his divine illusion, took the nectar from the Dānavas, and delivered it to the gods. The hosts of gods, led by Indra, drank the nectar and were empowered. The Daityas, raising their weapons, rushed upon the gods in fury. But the gods, now filled with newfound strength, struck down the Daitya army, which fled in all directions, finally entering Pātāla, the netherworld. The gods, filled with joy, bowed in reverence to Hari—the bearer of the conch, discus, and mace—and returned to their heavenly abodes. The sun, his radiance restored, resumed his path, and the stars moved along their courses as before. The sacred fire blazed forth with brilliant light, and righteousness arose in the minds of all beings. The three worlds became adorned with prosperity, and Indra, chief of the gods, regained his former glory.