O sinless one, you shall be blessed with remarkable offspring and attain unparalleled fame in the world, O best of men. Among your wives, one will bear a single son who will continue your lineage, while the other will give birth to sixty thousand sons. Hearing the sage’s words, the two princesses were filled with joy. With hands joined in reverence, they addressed the great sage, eager to know which among them would have the single son and which would bear the multitude. They humbly asked, “O Brāhmaṇa, tell us which of us will have the one son, and which the many. May your words come true.” The supremely righteous sage Bhṛgu replied, “Let it be as you each desire. Let one have a single son to continue the line, or let there be many mighty, renowned, and energetic sons—let each choose the boon she wishes.” Upon hearing this, Keśinī, in the presence of the king, chose to have a single son who would continue the royal line. Sumati, the sister of Suparṇa, chose to have sixty thousand sons, all energetic and renowned. With reverence, the king and his wives circumambulated the sage and bowed to him, then returned to their city. In due time, Keśinī gave birth to Sagara’s firstborn son, who became known as Asamañja. Sumati, O tiger among men, bore a gourd-like womb, and when it was split open, sixty thousand sons emerged. These sixty thousand sons were raised by nurses in jars filled with ghee, and in time, they all grew into beautiful and youthful princes. Thus, after many years, Sagara was blessed with sixty thousand sons, all endowed with beauty and youth. But Asamañja, Sagara’s eldest son, acted cruelly—he would throw children into the waters of the Sarayu and laugh as he watched them drown, behaving sinfully and troubling the good people. Because of his harmful actions toward the citizens, his father banished him from the city. Asamañja’s son was named Aṃśumān, a man of great strength, who was loved by all and spoke kindly to everyone; in time, wisdom blossomed in him. Sagara then resolved to perform a great sacrifice. With his teachers, he prepared to conduct the Vedic ritual. Now, listen to the next chapter in the glorious Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa, O descendant of Raghu. Having heard Viśvāmitra’s tale, Rāma, delighted and radiant, spoke to the sage, “I wish to hear, O Brāhmaṇa, how my ancestor completed the sacrifice. Please tell me in detail.” Viśvāmitra, smiling with delight, replied, “Listen, O Rāma, to the story of the great-souled Sagara. His father-in-law was Himavat, renowned by name. When they reached Mount Vindhya, they gazed upon each other, and between them, the sacrifice took place. That region is highly esteemed for sacrificial rites. There, the mighty archer Aṃśumān, following Sagara’s will, tended the sacrificial horse. During the sacrifice, Indra, assuming the form of a demoness, stole the horse belonging to the sacrificer. As the noble horse was being carried away, the groups of priests cried out to Sagara, “The sacrificial horse is being swiftly led away during the ceremony! O descendant of Kakutstha, slay the thief and bring back the horse, or else a flaw will arise in the sacrifice, bringing misfortune to us all.” The king, hearing their words, addressed his sixty thousand sons: “O best among men, I see no way for you except to pursue the demons. I am engaged in this great sacrifice, purified by mantras and attended by noble priests. Go forth, my sons, and search everywhere. May good fortune be yours. Follow the entire earth, encircled by the ocean, and each of you cover a stretch of one yojana in breadth. Dig the earth as far as the horse’s tracks are visible, seeking the thief who took the horse, by my command. I, consecrated and accompanied by my grandsons and the priests, will remain here until the horse is found. May good fortune be yours.” The sixty thousand royal princes, mighty and joyful, set out across the earth, constrained by their father’s command. They traversed the whole earth, but did not find the horse. Each covering a yojana in breadth, they broke open the ground with arms as hard as thunderbolts. Piercing the earth with lightning-like spears and terrible ploughs, the ground roared, echoing with sounds like elephants, demons, and formidable rakshasas being slain. They broke the earth for sixty thousand yojanas, finally reaching the excellent region of Rasatala, O Rama.