Hearing the words of the noble Rāghava, the great sage Kauśika made arrangements for the entire assembly of sages to cross the river. Once they reached the northern bank, and after duly honoring the group of sages, they settled themselves along the banks of the sacred Gaṅgā. From there, they beheld the splendid city of Viśālā. Eager to explore, the eminent sage Viśvāmitra, together with Rāghava, soon set out for the delightful and resplendent city of Viśālā, a place radiant like heaven itself. As they arrived, Rāma, wise and respectful, folded his hands and turned to the great sage with a question. “O great sage,” he asked reverently, “which royal lineage was established here in Viśālā? I am eager to hear about it, for my curiosity is great. Please tell me, and may blessings be yours.” Hearing Rāma’s earnest inquiry, the foremost among sages began to recount the ancient history of Viśālā. “Listen, Rāma,” he said, “to the tale of Indra as I have heard it. Hear truly what happened in this land, O descendant of Raghu. “In the ancient Kṛta age, mighty sons of Diti and the powerful, righteous sons of Aditi lived in the world. These great souls, O tiger among men, once deliberated together: ‘How might we become immortal, ageless, and free from disease?’ As these wise ones pondered, a thought arose among them: ‘By churning the ocean of milk, we shall obtain its essence.’ “Resolving to do so, they used the serpent Vāsuki as the churning rope and the mighty Mandara mountain as the churning rod. With tremendous energy, they began their great task. After a thousand years of churning, Vāsuki, used as the rope, began to emit deadly poison from his heads, biting the rocks with his fangs. From this, a blazing, dreadful poison called Hālāhala arose, scorching the entire world—gods, asuras, and humans alike. “In their distress, the gods sought refuge with the great Lord Śaṅkara, Rudra, the Lord of Beasts, and praised him, crying out, ‘Save us, save us!’ Thus addressed, the Lord of lords appeared before them, and at that moment, Hari—Viṣṇu, bearing the conch and discus—also manifested. “Smiling, Hari spoke to Rudra, the wielder of the trident: ‘What has arisen here while the gods were churning? That which is yours, O best of gods, and which has appeared before the gods—standing here at the forefront, accept this poison, O Lord.’ Having spoken thus, Hari vanished from their sight. Seeing the gods’ fear and recalling Hari’s words, Hara, the Lord of gods, took up the dreadful Hālāhala poison—equal in power to nectar—and, dismissing the gods, departed. “Freed from this danger, all the gods and asuras resumed their churning, O delight of the Raghus. But then the great mountain churning rod sank into the netherworld. In their plight, the gods, joined by the Gandharvas, praised Madhusūdana, Viṣṇu: ‘You are the refuge of all beings, especially of those 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, he placed the mountain upon his broad back, and Keśava, soul of the worlds, grasped the mountain’s summit with his hand. Standing among the gods, the supreme person Viṣṇu churned the ocean. After another thousand years, a man composed of the science of life arose from the waters. “This virtuous one, holding a staff and water-pot, was the first to emerge—Dhanvantari by name. Along with him, radiant apsarases appeared—excellent women born from the churning of the ocean’s essence. Sixty crores of these shining apsarases came forth, O Kākutstha, and their attendants were beyond counting. Neither gods nor demons accepted them; thus, because they were not claimed, they are considered common to all. “Next, O delight of the Raghu lineage, Varuṇa’s daughter, Vāruṇī of great fortune, emerged, seeking acceptance. The sons of Diti did not accept her, but the sons of Aditi, O hero, received her, who was blameless. Thus, the Daityas became known as asuras, and the sons of Aditi as suras; the gods rejoiced greatly at accepting Vāruṇī. “Then arose Uccaiḥśravā, the foremost of horses, and the radiant Kaustubha gem, O best of men, and finally, the supreme nectar itself. For the sake of this nectar, O Rāma, a terrible destruction of clans ensued: the sons of Aditi fought fiercely with the sons of Diti. All the asuras joined with the rākṣasas, and a dreadful battle took place, shaking the three worlds. “When all seemed to be destroyed, mighty Viṣṇu assumed an enchanting form and swiftly seized the nectar. Those who approached Viṣṇu, the imperishable supreme person, were crushed in battle by his power. In this fierce war between the Daityas and the Ādityas, the sons of Aditi, O heroes, slew the sons of Diti. “Now, Rāma, hear what followed. When her sons were slain, Diti was overwhelmed with grief. Approaching her husband, Kaśyapa—the son of Mārīca—she spoke with sorrow: ‘O revered one, I am bereft of sons, slain by your mighty children. I desire a son, gained through long austerity, who will be the slayer of Indra.