The sons of King Sagara, in their relentless quest to recover the lost sacrificial horse, journeyed deep beneath the earth. There, they beheld a wondrous sight: a colossal elephant, its eyes strangely deformed, bearing upon its mighty head the entire earth—mountains, forests, and all. This magnificent being supported the world itself, and whenever, weary from its burden, it shook its head to rest at the meeting points of the quarters, the whole earth would tremble and quake. Honoring this guardian of the quarter, the sons of Sagara circled the great elephant in reverence. Then, breaking through, they continued downward into the netherworld. Emerging into the eastern quarter, and then again into the southern, they found yet another immense elephant, Mahāpadma, whose vast form and immense soul resembled a mountain, also holding the earth aloft. Filled with awe and wonder at this sight, they paid their respects. Circumambulating Mahāpadma, the sixty thousand sons pressed on, breaking into the western direction. There, too, they encountered a mighty elephant of the quarters, Saumanasa, as massive as a mountain. They honored him, questioned him, and, finding him unharmed, continued their search, digging now towards the direction of the moon. In the north, they saw the snow-white Bhadra, auspicious in form, steadfastly bearing the earth. They greeted and circled him as well, before breaking open the surface yet again. At last, they reached the renowned northeastern direction. Driven by anger and determination, all the sons of Sagara dug furiously into the earth. There, the great-souled, mighty, and impetuous princes beheld the eternal Kapila, the divine Vāsudeva. Nearby, to their immense joy, they spotted the sacrificial horse wandering freely. But recognizing Kapila as the destroyer of their sacrifice, their eyes blazed with anger. Armed with spades, ploughs, and even uprooted trees and stones, they rushed at him, shouting, “Stop! Stop! You have stolen our sacrificial horse! You are wicked-minded! Know us to be the sons of Sagara who have now arrived!” Kapila, unmoved by their threats, was overcome by great wrath. With a mighty roar, the immeasurable, great-souled Kapila unleashed his divine power, and in an instant, all sixty thousand sons of Sagara were reduced to ashes. Now, listen to the next part of this sacred tale. When Sagara realized his sons had been gone too long, he addressed his grandson, a radiant youth shining with his own inner splendor. “You are brave, accomplished in knowledge, and equal in brilliance to your ancestors,” Sagara said. “Seek the path your fathers took in pursuit of the stolen horse. Powerful beings dwell within the earth—go armed with sword and bow for protection. Show respect to those worthy, but if any obstruct you, overcome them. Return victorious, and complete my sacrifice.” Thus instructed, the grandson of Sagara swiftly took up his bow and sword and set out, his steps light and determined. He entered the subterranean path excavated by his forebears, urged on by his royal grandfather. Along the way, gods, demons, yakshas, spirits, birds, and serpents honored him. He soon came upon one of the mighty elephants of the directions. Reverently circling the elephant, he asked after its well-being, and then inquired about his ancestors and the thief of the horse. The wise and great-minded elephant replied, “Āsamañja, your quest is near its end. Together with the horse, you will soon return.” Encouraged, Āsamañja questioned all the elephants of the directions in turn, and each guardian honored him and assured him, “You will return with the horse.” Taking heart from their words, the swift-footed prince pressed on until he reached the place where his ancestors, the sons of Sagara, lay reduced to heaps of ashes. Overcome by sorrow, he cried out in anguish at the sight of their destruction. Not far away, he saw the sacrificial horse, still wandering. Wishing to perform the water-rite for the departed princes, he searched for water, but found no reservoir. Casting his gaze around, he then beheld the king of birds, Suparṇa—Vainateya, swift as the wind and maternal uncle to his ancestors. The mighty Suparṇa spoke gently: “Do not grieve, tiger among men. This death is accepted by the world. Your ancestors were burned by the immeasurable Kapila; you should not offer them ordinary water. Only Gaṅgā, eldest daughter of Himavat, is fit for this rite. When the sacred Gaṅgā washes over these ashes, your sixty thousand ancestors will attain the heavenly realm.” “Go now, fortunate one,” Suparṇa continued. “Gather the horse and complete the ancestral sacrifice.” Hearing these words, the radiant prince, filled with resolve, swiftly collected the horse and returned, ready to fulfill his grandfather’s sacred rite.