The mighty sons of Sagara, driven by their quest, came upon Kapila, the eternal Vāsudeva, whose presence radiated divine power. Near this god, they saw the sacrificial horse wandering freely, and their hearts surged with incomparable joy at finding it. But recognizing Kapila as the destroyer of their sacrifice, their eyes blazed with anger. Grasping spades, ploughs, trees, and stones, they rushed at him, shouting fiercely, “Stop, stop! You have stolen our sacrificial horse!” They accused him, “You are wicked-minded! Know us to be the sons of Sagara, who have now arrived!” Hearing their heated words, Kapila, enraged, uttered a mighty roar. With his immeasurable power, the great-souled Kapila reduced all the sons of Sagara to ashes. Time passed, and Sagara, realizing his sons had not returned, called upon his grandson, Aṃśumān, radiant with his own brilliance. Sagara spoke: “You are brave, accomplished in knowledge, and equal in brilliance to your ancestors. Seek the path of your fathers, by which the horse was led away. Powerful and mighty beings dwell within the earth; for protection, take up your sword and bow. Salute those worthy of respect, and if you encounter obstacles, do not hesitate to overcome them. Return victorious, having completed my sacrifice.” Thus instructed, Aṃśumān, full of resolve, took up his bow and sword and set out swiftly. He entered the subterranean path excavated by his ancestors, urged on by the king. Along the way, he was honored by gods, demons, yakshas, spirits, birds, and serpents. There, the mighty Aṃśumān beheld the elephant guarding the directions. He circled it reverently, inquired about its well-being, and then questioned it about his ancestors and the horse-stealer. The wise elephant replied, “Āsamañja, your purpose is fulfilled; with the horse, you will soon return.” Encouraged, Aṃśumān questioned all the elephants of the directions in proper order. By the guardians of the directions, skilled and wise, he was honored and assured, “You will return with the horse.” Hearing their words, he hastened to the place where his ancestors, the sons of Sagara, had been reduced to heaps of ashes. Overcome with sorrow, Aṃśumān cried out in great distress, deeply afflicted by their fate. Nearby, still grieving, he saw the sacrificial horse wandering. Desiring to perform the water-rite for the royal sons, Aṃśumān searched for water, but found no reservoir. Casting his gaze around, he saw Suparṇa, the king of birds, maternal uncle to his ancestors, swift as the wind. Vainateya spoke gently: “Do not grieve, tiger among men; this death is accepted by the world. These mighty ones were burned by the immeasurable Kapila; you should not offer them ordinary water. Gaṅgā, eldest daughter of Himavat, is the one in whom you must perform the water-rite for your ancestors. When beloved Gaṅgā washes over these ashes, sixty thousand sons will attain the heavenly realm.” “Go forth, gather the horse, and complete the ancestral sacrifice,” urged Suparṇa. Hearing these words, Aṃśumān, radiant and powerful, quickly took the horse and returned. Approaching the consecrated king, he reported all that had happened, including Suparṇa’s counsel. Hearing these dreadful words, Sagara completed the sacrifice according to prescribed rites, but could find no way to bring Gaṅgā down to earth. Without resolution, the great king ruled for thirty thousand years, and then departed to heaven in due time. When Sagara passed away, the people chose Aṃśumān, supremely righteous, as king. Aṃśumān was exceedingly great, and his renowned son was Dilīpa. Entrusting the kingdom to Dilīpa, Aṃśumān retired to the beautiful peak of the Himalaya to perform severe austerities. Dwelling in the forest of ascetics for thirty-two thousand years, he attained heaven, enriched by his austerities. Dilīpa, endowed with great energy, learned of his ancestors’ destruction and was overcome by grief. He pondered deeply: How might the descent of Gaṅgā be accomplished? How could the funeral rites with water be performed for them? How might I deliver them? Thus, Dilīpa remained absorbed in thought, seeking a way to fulfill his ancestral duty.