Hearing Rāma’s inquiry, the foremost among sages began to narrate the ancient history of Viśālā. “Listen well, Rāma,” he said, “to the tale of Indra as I have heard it, and learn what transpired in this land, O scion of Raghu. “In the distant Kṛta age, there lived the mighty sons of Diti and the illustrious, powerful, and righteous sons of Aditi. These great souls, O tiger among men, once deliberated together: ‘How might we attain immortality, freedom from old age, and immunity from disease?’ “While these wise ones pondered, the idea arose among them: ‘By churning the ocean of milk, we shall obtain its essence.’ Resolving thus, they set about their task, using the serpent Vāsuki as the churning rope and the mountain Mandara as the churning rod. With tremendous vigor, they began to churn the ocean. “A thousand years passed, and Vāsuki, the serpent used as the rope, began to emit deadly poison from his many heads, biting the rocks with his fangs. From this arose a blazing, dreadful poison called Hālāhala, like fire itself, which scorched the entire world—gods, asuras, and humans alike. “In their distress, the gods sought refuge with the great god Śaṅkara, Lord of Beasts, Rudra, and praised him, crying out, ‘Save us, save us!’ Thus addressed, the Lord of lords of gods appeared before them. At that moment, Hari, the bearer of the conch and discus, also manifested. “Smiling, Hari spoke to Rudra, the wielder of the trident: ‘What is this that has arisen while the gods were churning?’ He continued, ‘This poison, O best of gods, has appeared before the gods and is yours by right. Please, standing at the forefront, accept it, O Lord.’ “Having spoken thus, Hari, the best of gods, vanished. Seeing the fear of the gods and recalling Hari’s words, the Lord Hara 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 their churning, O delight of the Raghus. But soon the great mountain churning rod sank into the netherworld. In their plight, the gods and Gandharvas praised Madhusūdana: ‘You are the refuge of all beings, especially those who dwell in heaven. Protect us, O mighty-armed one; you must lift the mountain.’ “Hearing their plea, Hṛṣīkeśa assumed the form of a giant tortoise. Lying in the ocean, he placed the mountain upon his back, and with his own hand, Keśava, the soul of the worlds, grasped the mountain’s summit. Standing among the gods, the Supreme Person churned the ocean. After another thousand years, a being composed of the science of life arose—a virtuous one, holding a staff and water-pot, named Dhanvantari, and along with him, radiant apsarases appeared. “From the churning waters, O best of men, the essence produced these excellent women—thus the apsarases came into being. Sixty crores of these radiant beings arose, O Kākutstha, attended by countless others. Yet neither gods nor demons accepted them, so, being unclaimed, they became common to all. “Next, O delight of the Raghu lineage, Varuṇa’s daughter, Vāruṇī, of great fortune, emerged, seeking acceptance. The sons of Diti would not accept her, but the sons of Aditi, O hero, did, for she was blameless. Thus, the Daityas became known as asuras, and the sons of Aditi, as suras. The gods rejoiced greatly at the acceptance of Vāruṇī. “Then emerged Uccaiḥśravā, the foremost of horses, and the Kaustubha gem, O best of men, as well as the supreme nectar. For the sake of this nectar, O Rāma, a terrible destruction of clans ensued, as the sons of Aditi fought fiercely with the sons of Diti. All the asuras united with the rākṣasas, and a dreadful battle took place, bewildering the three worlds. “When everything was in ruin, mighty Viṣṇu, assuming an enchanting form, swiftly seized the nectar. Those who approached Viṣṇu, the imperishable Supreme Person, were vanquished in battle by him. In this fierce war between the Daityas and the Ādityas, the sons of Aditi slew the sons of Diti. “Now, Rāma, listen further. “When her sons were slain, Diti was overwhelmed with grief. She approached her husband, the sage Kaśyapa, son of Mārīca, and said, ‘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. Therefore, I shall undertake austerity; you must grant me conception. Permit me to obtain a son who will be the slayer of Indra, O lord.’ “Hearing her words, the radiant Kaśyapa, possessed of great splendor, addressed Diti, who was steeped in sorrow: ‘So be it; may auspiciousness be yours. Remain pure, O possessor of austerity. You will bear a son who will slay Indra in battle. If you remain pure for a full thousand years, you will bear from me a son who will destroy the three worlds.’ “Having spoken thus, the sage gently touched her with his hand, blessed her, and departed to his own austerities.