After a century had passed in devoted austerity, the sage Bhṛgu—foremost among the truthful—was moved by the intensity of King Sagara’s penances. Pleased with their devotion, Bhṛgu granted Sagara a boon, saying, “O sinless one, you shall be blessed with great offspring, and your fame will become incomparable throughout the world, O best of men. Of your two wives, one will bear a single son to continue your lineage, and the other will give birth to sixty thousand sons.” Hearing these gracious words, the two queens, their hearts filled with delight and hands folded in reverence, approached the sage and humbly asked, “O Brāhmaṇa, which of us shall have the single son, and which shall bear the many? We long to know, and may your words come true.” The supremely righteous Bhṛgu replied, “Let it be as each of you desires. One may choose to have a single son to continue the line, or many mighty, renowned, and energetic sons. Each of you, make your wish.” Upon hearing this, Keśinī, in the presence of the king, chose to bear a single son who would continue the royal line. Sumati, sister of Suparṇa, chose to have sixty thousand energetic and renowned sons. With gratitude, the king and his wives circumambulated the sage, bowed to him with their heads, and returned to their city. In time, Keśinī bore Sagara a firstborn son, who was named Asamañja. Sumati, on the other hand, gave birth to a gourd-like womb, from which, when it was split open, sixty thousand sons emerged. Nurses raised these children in jars filled with ghee, and as the years passed, all sixty thousand grew to youth, radiant in beauty and vigor. Thus, Sagara became the father of sixty thousand sons, all endowed with youthful splendor. Yet, Asamañja, Sagara’s eldest, displayed troubling behavior: he would seize the children of the city and, laughing cruelly, throw them into the waters of the Sarayu, taking pleasure in their distress and causing harm among the people. Because of these wicked deeds, Sagara, seeking to protect his citizens, banished Asamañja from the city. However, Asamañja’s son, Aṃśumān, grew to be a man of great strength, beloved by all, gentle in speech, and wise beyond his years. Later, Sagara resolved to perform a grand Vedic sacrifice. With firm intent, he gathered his teachers and prepared for the sacred ritual. At this point in the tale, the sage Viśvāmitra, radiant like fire, was approached by the delighted Rāma, who had listened intently to the story. Rāma said, “O Brāhmaṇa, may good befall you, I wish to hear in detail how my ancestor completed the sacrifice.” Viśvāmitra, smiling with delight, replied, “Listen well, O Rāma, to the story of the great-souled Sagara. His father-in-law was Himavat, renowned among the mountains. When Sagara’s sacrifice was to take place, they had reached Mount Vindhya, and between Himavat and Vindhya, that great ritual was performed—a region highly esteemed for sacrificial rites. There, in accordance with Sagara’s will, Aṃśumān, the mighty archer, tended the sacrificial horse. But during the sacrifice, Indra, assuming the form of a demoness, stole the horse of the sacrificer. As the noble horse was carried away, the priests cried out to Sagara, “The sacrificial horse is being swiftly led away during the ceremony! O king, slay the thief and bring back the horse, or a flaw will arise in the sacrifice, bringing misfortune to us all.” Sagara addressed his sixty thousand sons, “O best among men, I see no other way but for you, my sons, to pursue the demons. I am engaged in this great sacrifice, purified by mantras and attended by noble priests. Therefore, go forth, search the entire earth, which is encircled by the ocean. Each of you cover a stretch of one yojana in breadth. Dig the earth as far as the horse’s tracks are visible, and by my command, seek out the thief who took the horse. I, consecrated and accompanied by my grandsons and the priests, will remain here until the horse is found. May good fortune be yours.” Obeying their father’s command, the sixty thousand royal princes set out, their hearts joyful and determined. They scoured the whole earth, each covering their portion, but did not find the horse. Then, with arms as hard as thunderbolts, they began to break open the ground, digging deeply wherever the horse’s tracks led. They pierced the earth with spears like lightning and terrible ploughs, causing the ground to roar with the tumult—like the cries of elephants, demons, and formidable rakshasas being slain. Thus, the sons of Sagara began their relentless search, shaking the very earth in their quest to recover the sacrificial horse.