Rāma, listen attentively to the tale of Indra as it was told to me, for it reveals the ancient happenings of this land, O descendant of Raghu. Long ago, in the Kṛta age, both the mighty sons of Diti and the greatly fortunate, powerful, and righteous sons of Aditi lived upon the earth. These noble beings, O tiger among men, gathered together and deliberated on how they might attain immortality—how they could become ageless and free from all disease. As they pondered, a thought arose among them: by churning the ocean of milk, they could obtain its hidden essence. Resolving to undertake this great endeavor, they used the serpent Vāsuki as the churning rope and the mountain Mandara as the churning rod. With tremendous energy, gods and asuras together began to churn the ocean. After a thousand years of relentless effort, the serpent Vāsuki, used as the rope, began to emit deadly poison from its many heads, biting the rocks with its fangs. From this arose a blazing, fire-like, dreadful poison known as Hālāhala, which scorched the entire world—gods, asuras, and humans alike. In terror, the gods sought refuge and approached the great god Śaṅkara, Lord of Beasts, Rudra, praising him and pleading, “Save us, save us!” Thus addressed, the Lord of lords appeared before them; and then Hari, bearing the conch and discus, also manifested. Hari, smiling gently, spoke to Rudra, the wielder of the trident: “What has arisen here while the gods were churning?” He continued, “This poison, O best of gods, which has appeared before the gods, is yours. Standing here at the forefront, accept this poison, O Lord.” Having spoken thus, Hari vanished. Seeing the gods’ fear and hearing the words of the wielder of Śārṅga, the Lord of gods, Hara, took up the dreadful Hālāhala poison, equal in potency to nectar, and, dismissing the gods, departed. With the poison removed, the gods and asuras resumed their churning, O delight of the Raghus. But the great mountain churning rod, Mandara, sank into the netherworld. The gods, along with the Gandharvas, then praised Madhusūdana, saying, “You are the refuge of all beings, especially those who dwell in heaven. Protect us, O mighty-armed one; you ought to lift the mountain.” Hearing their plea, Hṛṣīkeśa assumed the form of a tortoise. Hari lay in the ocean, placing the mountain upon his back, while Keśava, the soul of the worlds, grasped the mountain’s summit with his hand. Standing among the gods, the supreme person churned the ocean; and after another thousand years, a man composed of the science of life arose. This virtuous one emerged, holding a staff and water-pot; he was first named Dhanvantari. Alongside him, radiant apsarases also appeared. From the churning of the waters, O best of men, this essence produced those excellent women; thus, the apsarases came into being. Sixty crores of these radiant apsarases arose, and their attendants were countless, O Kākutstha. Neither the gods nor the demons accepted them; because they were not claimed, they are considered common to all. Then, O delight of the Raghu lineage, Varuṇa’s daughter, Vāruṇī, of great fortune, emerged, seeking acceptance. The sons of Diti did not accept Varuṇa’s daughter, but the sons of Aditi, O hero, accepted her, who was blameless. Thus, the Daityas became asuras, and the sons of Aditi became suras; the gods rejoiced greatly at the acceptance of Vāruṇī. Uccaiḥśravā, the foremost horse, and the Kaustubha gem arose, O best of men; likewise, the supreme nectar. Then, for the sake of this nectar, O Rāma, a great destruction of clans took place; the sons of Aditi fought fiercely with the sons of Diti. All the asuras united with the rākṣasas, and a terrible battle ensued, bewildering the three worlds. When everything was destroyed, mighty Viṣṇu, assuming an enchanting form, swiftly seized the nectar. Those who approached Viṣṇu, the imperishable supreme person, were crushed in battle by his power. The sons of Aditi, O heroes, slew the sons of Diti in this fierce and great war between the Daityas and the Ādityas. Now, Rāma, listen to the next part of the tale. When her sons were slain, Diti was overwhelmed with grief. She spoke to her husband, the sage Kaśyapa, son of Mārīca: “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 ought to grant me conception. Permit me to obtain a son who will be the slayer of Indra, O lord.” Hearing her words, Maricha Kasyapa, possessed of great splendor, gently addressed Diti, who was overcome with 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 radiant sage gently touched her with his hand, blessed her, and departed for his own austerities. When he had gone, O best of men, Diti, exceedingly delighted, reached the place called Kushaplava and undertook severe austerity.