Having reached the resplendent, jewel-adorned heights of Mount Kailāsa, the assembly of gods gathered with a single purpose: to obtain a son who would fulfill their divine mission. To accomplish this, they appointed Agni, the god of fire, and beseeched him, “O Agni, for the sake of all the gods, release your mighty energy into Gaṅgā, the daughter of the mountain.” Agni, accepting the task entrusted to him, approached the radiant Gaṅgā and addressed her, “O goddess, bear this embryo; this is most dear to the gods.” Hearing his words, Gaṅgā assumed a divine form of surpassing beauty. Such was her greatness that Agni’s fiery energy, unable to be contained, dispersed in all directions. Then, O descendant of Raghu, Agni anointed the goddess Gaṅgā on every side, and her countless streams overflowed with this potent force. Overwhelmed by the blazing energy within her, Gaṅgā turned to the gathered gods and cried out, “O gods, I am unable to bear the searing fire that has arisen from Agni!” Distressed and scorched by the consuming flames, her mind greatly troubled, Gaṅgā was comforted by Agni himself, the receiver of all offerings. He said to her, “Let this embryo be placed here, upon the slopes of the mighty Himalayas.” Obeying Agni’s words, Gaṅgā released that exceedingly radiant embryo. O sinless one, from her sacred waters emerged an embryo of immense strength and brilliance, shining like molten gold. As it reached the earth, gold, radiant as the sun, appeared, along with silver of incomparable luster, copper, and black iron—all born from the sharpness of that energy. The impurities that left Gaṅgā became tin and lead, and as they touched the earth, the variety of metals increased. Where the embryo was deposited, infused with celestial radiance, the entire forest, encircled by mountains, transformed—everything became golden. From that time onward, O Raghava, the place has been known as ‘jātarūpa’—gold, equal in brilliance to fire. All the grass, trees, creepers, and shrubs there took on a golden hue. Then, the gods, along with Indra and the hosts of wind deities, entrusted the nurturing of the newborn to the Krittikas, the starry maidens. United in their resolve, the Krittikas agreed to nurse the child, declaring, “He is the son of all of us.” The gods proclaimed, “He shall be called Kartikeya; he will become renowned throughout the three worlds as our son—of this there is no doubt.” Hearing these words, the gods bathed the radiant child, who had emerged from the flow of the embryo, and he shone with supreme splendor, as if he were blazing fire. The gods named him Skanda, for he had “flowed forth” from the embryo—thus was born Kartikeya, mighty-armed and radiant as fire. At that moment, the excellent milk of the Krittikas appeared, and the six-faced child drank from each of their breasts. Though his body was still tender, in a single day he took their milk and, by his own strength, overcame the hosts of demon armies. All the immortals, led by Agni, anointed him—the one of great brilliance—as the commander of the divine armies. O Rāma, thus I have recounted to you the full story of Gaṅgā and the auspicious, blessed birth of the boy. Know, O Kakutstha, that any man on earth devoted to Kartikeya, and blessed with sons and grandsons, will attain the world of Skanda. Thus ends the thirty-seventh sarga in the Bālakāṇḍa of the glorious Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa. Now, as the next sarga begins, Viśvāmitra, having finished the sweetly-worded tale, spoke further to Rāma, the descendant of Kakutstha. “O hero, once there was a king of Ayodhyā, righteous and renowned, named Sagara. Though he longed for offspring, he was childless. Sagara’s elder queen was Keśinī, daughter of the king of Vidarbha, virtuous and truthful. His second wife was Sumati, sister of Suparṇa and daughter of Ariṣṭanemi. With both his queens, the great king undertook severe austerities, journeying to Mount Himavat, to the peak called Bhṛguprasravaṇa. After a hundred years of penance, the sage Bhṛgu, foremost among the truthful, was pleased and granted Sagara a boon. ‘O sinless one,’ he said, ‘you will obtain great offspring and attain incomparable fame in the world, O best of men. One of your wives will bear a single son, the continuer of your line; the other will bear sixty thousand sons.’ Delighted by the sage’s words, the two princesses, hands joined in reverence, addressed Bhṛgu: ‘O Brāhmaṇa, which of us will have the single son, and which will bear the many? We wish to hear this, O Brāhmaṇa—may your words come true.’ Hearing their request, the supremely righteous Bhṛgu replied, ‘Let it be as each of you desires. Let one have a single son to continue the line, and the other many mighty, renowned, and energetic sons—choose as you wish.’ Hearing this, O descendant of Raghu, Keśinī chose, in the presence of the king, to have a single son to continue the royal line. Sumati, sister of Suparṇa, chose to have sixty thousand sons, all energetic and renowned. Having circumambulated the sage and bowed to him with their heads, King Sagara, together with his wives, returned to his own city, their hearts filled with hope and blessing.