When the sons of King Sagara searched for the sacred horse, they returned to their father in confusion and distress. "We do not see your horse, nor the one who took it," they said. "What should we do? Please consider what is best." Hearing these words from his sons, King Sagara, the best of kings, was filled with anger. He addressed them, his voice stern yet resolute: "Dig again, my children, and may good come to you. Break through the earth’s surface. When you find the thief of the horse, return to me, your purpose accomplished." With their great-souled father’s command, all sixty thousand sons of Sagara surged forward, their determination unshaken, and they rushed toward the netherworld. As they dug deeper into the earth, they encountered a wondrous sight—a great elephant, vast as a mountain, with eyes strangely deformed, standing firm and immense, bearing the very weight of the earth upon his head. This mighty being, with the earth’s mountains and forests resting on him, supported the world itself. Whenever, O Rāma, that great elephant, weary from his burden, shakes his head for rest at the meeting of the quarters, the earth trembles and quakes. With reverence, the sons of Sagara honored this great elephant, guardian of the quarter. They circled him respectfully, then pressed onward, breaking through into the netherworld. Their journey led them to the eastern quarter, and from there to the southern direction, where again they broke through and saw another vast elephant. This one was the great Mahāpadma, a being of immense soul, mountain-like in form, supporting the earth upon his head. The sight filled them with awe and wonder. They circumambulated Mahāpadma as well, honoring him, and pressed on to the western direction. There they saw yet another great elephant, Saumanasa, as massive as a mountain, standing firm and unshaken. They circled him, questioned him, and, finding him unharmed, continued their search, now digging toward the direction of the moon—the north. In the northern quarter, O Rāma, best of Raghu’s line, they beheld Bhadra, snow-white and auspicious in form, bearing the earth with serene strength. Again, they greeted him, circled him, and broke open the surface of the earth, ever driven by their quest. Their journey then took them to the renowned northeastern direction, where, filled with anger and determination, the sons of Sagara dug deep into the earth. There, in that sacred place, all those great-souled, mighty, and impetuous sons of Sagara beheld Kapila, the eternal Vāsudeva himself. Near that divine being, they saw the sacrificial horse wandering freely, and their hearts were flooded with incomparable joy. But their joy quickly turned to fury, for they believed Kapila to be the destroyer of their sacrifice. Eyes blazing with anger, they seized spades, ploughs, and hurled trees and stones, rushing at him with shouts: "Stop, stop! For you have stolen our sacrificial horse! You are wicked-minded! Know us to be the sons of Sagara who have now arrived!" Hearing their words, the great Kapila, immeasurable in his might, was overcome by wrath. He uttered a terrible roar, and in that instant, by his immeasurable power, all sixty thousand sons of Sagara were reduced to ashes. Now, listen to the next part of this sacred tale, O Rāma, as told in the glorious Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa. When his sons had been gone a long time, Sagara, the descendant of Raghu, turned to his grandson, a youth radiant with his own splendor. "You are brave and accomplished in knowledge," Sagara told him, "equal in brilliance to your ancestors. Seek out the path your fathers took, by which the horse was led away. Within the earth dwell powerful and mighty beings—take up your sword and bow for protection. Salute those worthy of respect, and if any cause obstacles, do what you must. Return to me, successful, with my sacrifice completed." Thus addressed, the radiant grandson, filled with resolve, swiftly took up his bow and sword and set out with light steps. He entered the path beneath the earth, the very one excavated by his ancestors, the great-souled sons of Sagara, urged on by the king’s command. As he journeyed, he was honored by gods, demons, yakshas, spirits, birds, and serpents alike. Soon, the mighty youth beheld the elephant of the directions, just as his forebears had. He circled the elephant reverently, inquired after his well-being, and then questioned him about his ancestors and the horse-stealer. The wise and great-minded elephant replied, "Āsamañja, your purpose will be fulfilled; together with the horse, you will soon return." Encouraged, the youth questioned all the elephants of the directions, each in turn and with proper respect. By all the guardians of the quarters, skilled in speech and wisdom, he was honored and assured, "You will return with the horse." Heartened by their words, the swift-footed one pressed on to the place where his ancestors, the sons of Sagara, had been reduced to heaps of ashes. Overcome by sorrow, the son of Āsamañja cried out in great distress, deeply afflicted by their fate. Not far from that site of tragedy, the tiger among men, filled with grief, saw the sacrificial horse wandering. Desiring to perform the water-rite for the departed royal sons, the mighty youth searched for water, but found no reservoir nearby. As he looked about, his keen gaze fell upon the king of birds, Suparṇa—Vainateya, the mighty Garuḍa, maternal uncle of his ancestors, swift as the wind. Vainateya spoke gently to him: "Do not grieve, tiger among men; this death is accepted by the world.