Having paid their respects by circumambulating their great father Sagara, the sixty thousand sons, filled with determination, broke open the earth in the western direction. There, too, these mighty princes beheld the colossal elephant Saumanasa, guardian of the west, whose vast white form resembled a towering mountain. With due reverence, they circled him, inquired after his well-being, and, finding him unharmed and innocent, turned their efforts toward the direction of the moon. Journeying north, O descendant of Raghu, the sons of Sagara came upon Bhadra, the snow-hued elephant of the north, auspicious and resplendent, bearing the weight of the earth. They greeted him respectfully, circumambulated him, and continued their relentless excavation, breaking open the earth’s surface yet again. Their search led them next to the renowned northeastern quarter. There, driven by anger and frustration, the sons of Sagara dug furiously into the earth. In that mysterious region, these mighty, impetuous princes came upon Kapila, the eternal Vāsudeva, radiant and tranquil. Nearby, to their great relief, they saw the sacrificial horse wandering freely, and joy beyond compare filled their hearts. Yet, suspecting Kapila to be the thief who had destroyed their father’s sacrifice, their joy turned swiftly to rage. Eyes blazing, they brandished spades, ploughs, and even uprooted trees and stones, rushing at Kapila with shouts: “Stop! Stop! You have stolen our sacrificial horse! Wicked-minded one, know us to be the sons of Sagara who have now arrived!” Hearing their angry accusations, Kapila, the immeasurable and great-souled, was overcome by wrath. With a single, thunderous roar, he reduced all sixty thousand sons of Sagara to ashes on the spot. Now, listen to the next part of the sacred Rāmāyaṇa, O noble one. When his sons did not return for a long time, King Sagara, anxious and sorrowful, spoke to his grandson Aṃśumat, who shone with his own radiance. “You are brave and wise, and your brilliance matches your ancestors. Go, seek the path your fathers took, and find where the horse has been led away. Beneath the earth dwell powerful beings—take your sword and bow for protection. Offer respect to those worthy of it, but if any create obstacles, remove them. Return with the horse and fulfill my sacrifice.” Thus instructed by the great Sagara, Aṃśumat, radiant and resolute, swiftly took up his bow and sword and set out with a light step. He entered the deep subterranean path carved by his ancestors, urged on by the king. Along his journey, gods, demons, yakṣas, spirits, birds, and serpents all honored him. Soon, he beheld the elephant of the quarters, guardian of the directions. With reverence, Aṃśumat circled the mighty elephant, inquired after his welfare, and asked about his ancestors and the horse-stealer. The wise elephant replied, “Aṃśumat, your purpose will be fulfilled. You will soon return with the horse.” Encouraged, Aṃśumat questioned each of the elephants guarding the directions in turn, receiving honor and assurance from them all: “You will return with the horse.” Heeding their words, the swift-footed prince pressed on, reaching the place where the sons of Sagara had been reduced to heaps of ashes. Overcome by grief, he cried out in distress at the fate of his forefathers. Not far away, he saw the sacrificial horse wandering, but his heart was heavy with sorrow. Desiring to perform the water-rite for the departed souls, Aṃśumat searched for water but found no reservoir. Looking about, he saw Suparṇa, the king of birds—Vainateya, the maternal uncle of his ancestors—swift as the wind. The mighty Garuda spoke: “Do not grieve, tiger among men; such a death is known to the world. Your ancestors were burned by the immeasurable Kapila. Ordinary water will not suffice for their rites. Only the sacred Gaṅgā, eldest daughter of Himavat, can purify their ashes. When Gaṅgā’s waters touch these ashes, the sixty thousand sons will ascend to heaven.” “Go now, fortunate one, gather the horse, and complete your ancestor’s sacrifice,” Suparṇa instructed. Hearing these words, the radiant Aṃśumat, powerful and resolute, swiftly took the horse and returned to the king. He reported all that had occurred, including Suparṇa’s message. Upon hearing this dreadful news, King Sagara completed the sacrifice according to the prescribed rites, though his heart remained troubled regarding the descent of Gaṅgā. The illustrious king, having performed the sacrifice, returned to his city. Yet the question of bringing Gaṅgā to earth remained unresolved. After ruling for thirty thousand years, the great Sagara, unable to fulfill this final wish, departed for heaven in due course. Now, O listener, attend to the next chapter of this sacred tale.