At the break of dawn, when the sky was clear and peaceful, Rāghava—the destroyer of enemies—completed his morning rituals and turned to the ascetic Viśvāmitra. With reverence, he said, “The blessed night has passed, and we have heard the supreme story. Now, let us cross the sacred river, the best of all streams—the Gaṅgā, which flows in three mighty currents.” At that very moment, a boat arrived swiftly, as if in anticipation, for the sages of virtuous deeds often crossed here, and the boatman, learning of the venerable one’s presence, had hastened to their service. Hearing Rāghava’s words, the great sage Kauśika arranged for all the assembled sages to board and cross the river. After reaching the northern bank, they honored the group of sages as was proper, and settled on the riverbank. From there, they beheld the city of Viśālā, splendid in the distance. Without delay, the eminent sage Viśvāmitra, together with Rāghava, proceeded swiftly toward Viśālā, a city delightful and resplendent, like heaven itself. As they approached, Rāma, wise and humble, joined his palms and asked Viśvāmitra, “O great sage, what royal lineage is established here in Viśālā? I am greatly curious—please tell me, if you will, for I long to know.” Hearing Rāma’s eager question, Viśvāmitra, foremost among sages, began to recount the ancient history of Viśālā. “Listen, Rāma, to the tale of Indra as I have heard it, and learn what happened in this land, O scion of Raghu. “Long ago, in the age of Kṛta, there were the mighty sons of Diti and the powerful, righteous sons of Aditi. These great souls deliberated together, pondering how they might become immortal, ageless, and free from disease. As these wise ones considered, the thought arose among them: ‘If we churn the ocean of milk, we shall obtain its hidden essence.’ “Resolving to do so, they used the serpent Vāsuki as the churning rope and the mountain Mandara as the churning rod. With immense energy, they began to churn the ocean. After a thousand years of churning, the serpent, used as the rope, began to emit deadly poison from its many heads, biting the rocks with its fangs. “A blazing, fire-like, dreadful poison called Hālāhala arose, and by its power, the entire world—gods, asuras, and humans—was scorched. In their desperation, the gods sought refuge with the great god Śaṅkara, Lord of Beasts, Rudra, and praised him, crying, ‘Save us, save us!’ “Thus called, the Lord of lords of gods appeared, and then Hari, bearer of the conch and discus, manifested as well. Smiling, Hari spoke to Rudra, the wielder of the trident: ‘What has arisen here while the gods were churning—this, O best of gods, is yours. It has appeared before the gods; standing here at the forefront, accept this poison, O Lord.’ “Having spoken thus, Hari vanished. Seeing the fear of the gods and hearing the words of Hari, Hara, the Lord of gods, took up the dreadful Hālāhala poison—equal in potency to nectar—and, dismissing the gods, departed. “Once the poison was removed, all the gods and asuras resumed churning, O joy of the Raghu line. But soon, the great mountain Mandara, used as the churning rod, sank into the netherworld. The gods, along with the Gandharvas, praised Madhusūdana, saying, ‘You are the refuge of all beings, especially the dwellers in heaven. Protect us, O mighty-armed one; you alone can lift the mountain.’ “Hearing their plea, Hṛṣīkeśa assumed the form of a tortoise. Lying in the ocean, Hari placed the mountain upon his back, and Keśava, the soul of the worlds, grasped the mountain’s summit with his hand. Standing among the gods, the supreme person churned once more. “After another thousand years, a man composed of the science of life arose, holding a staff and water-pot—Dhanvantari by name. Along with him, radiant apsarases, celestial maidens, emerged from the churning waters. Sixty crores of these luminous apsarases appeared, their attendants beyond counting. “Neither gods nor demons claimed the apsarases as their own; thus, being unclaimed, they are regarded as common to all. Then, O delight of the Raghu line, Varuṇa’s daughter, Vāruṇī, of great fortune, arose, seeking acceptance. The sons of Diti did not accept her, but the sons of Aditi, O hero, welcomed the blameless one. Thus, the Daityas became asuras, and the sons of Aditi became suras—the gods rejoicing greatly at the acceptance of Vāruṇī. “Soon after, the foremost horse Uccaiḥśravā, the Kaustubha gem, and finally the supreme nectar arose from the ocean. For the sake of this nectar, O Rāma, a great destruction of clans ensued. The sons of Aditi fought fiercely with the sons of Diti. All the asuras joined with the rākṣasas, and a terrible battle ensued, bewildering the three worlds. “When everything was in chaos, mighty Viṣṇu, assuming an enchanting form, swiftly seized the nectar. Those who approached Viṣṇu—the imperishable supreme person—were vanquished in battle by his power. Thus, O heroes, the sons of Aditi slew the sons of Diti in that fierce war between the Daityas and the Ādityas.