Having spoken thus, the best of the gods vanished from sight. Witnessing the gods’ great fear and hearing the words of the wielder of the Śārṅga bow, the Lord of gods, Hara—Shiva himself—took up the dreadful Hālāhala poison, a substance as potent as nectar. After consuming it, he dismissed the assembled gods and departed. With Shiva’s intervention, the gods and asuras, their confidence renewed, resumed the churning of the ocean, O delight of the Raghus. But as they churned, the great mountain that served as their churning rod sank into the netherworld. Distressed, the gods, along with the Gandharvas, turned to Madhusūdana—Vishnu—and praised him: “You are the refuge of all beings, especially those who dwell in heaven.” They implored him, “O mighty-armed one, protect us! You alone can lift the mountain.” Hearing their plea, Hṛṣīkeśa, the Lord of the senses, assumed the form of a mighty tortoise. Taking the form of a tortoise, Hari lay in the ocean, supporting the mountain upon his back, while Keśava, the soul of all the worlds, grasped the mountain’s summit with his hand. Standing among the gods, the supreme person, Vishnu, churned the ocean. After a thousand years of churning, a radiant being emerged, composed of the very science of life. This virtuous one, holding a staff and a water-pot, was the first to arise—Dhanvantari, the divine physician. Along with him, resplendent apsarases, celestial maidens, were also born from the churning waters, O best of men. The essence of the ocean produced these excellent women, and thus the apsarases came into being. Sixty crores of these radiant apsarases arose, and, O Kākutstha, their attendants were countless. Yet, neither the gods nor the demons claimed them; because they were not taken by any, they came to be regarded as common to all. Then, O delight of the Raghu lineage, Varuṇa’s daughter, Vāruṇī, of great fortune, emerged, seeking someone to accept her. The sons of Diti, O Rāma, did not accept Vāruṇī, but the sons of Aditi, O hero, received her, recognizing her blamelessness. Thus, the Daityas became asuras, and the sons of Aditi became suras. The gods rejoiced greatly at the acceptance of Vāruṇī. From the churning also arose Uccaiḥśravā, the foremost of horses, and the radiant Kaustubha gem, O best of men, as well as the supreme nectar—amṛta. For the sake of this nectar, O Rāma, a great destruction of clans ensued as the sons of Aditi clashed with the sons of Diti. All the asuras joined forces with the rākṣasas, and a terrible battle erupted, bewildering the three worlds. When all was in chaos and destruction reigned, mighty Viṣṇu, assuming an enchanting form, swiftly seized the nectar. Those who approached Viṣṇu, the imperishable supreme person, were struck down in battle by his power. The sons of Aditi, O heroes, slew the sons of Diti in this fierce war between the Daityas and the Ādityas. Now, hear the forty-sixth chapter. When her sons had been slain, Diti was overwhelmed with grief. She turned to her husband, the sage Kaśyapa, son of Mārīca, and spoke: “O revered one, I am bereft of my 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, O lord, to obtain a son who will be the slayer of Indra.” Hearing her words, the illustrious Kaśyapa, radiant with splendor, addressed the grieving Diti gently: “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 to resume his own austerities. When he had gone, O best of men, Diti, exceedingly delighted, journeyed to the place called Kushaplava and began severe austerities. While she was thus engaged, Indra, endowed with supreme virtues, served her attentively. He provided fire, kusa grass, wood, water, fruits, roots, and whatever else she desired. With massages and relief from fatigue, Indra attended upon Diti at all times. When only ten years remained of the thousand, O descendant of Raghu, Diti, greatly rejoicing, spoke to Indra: “Ten years remain of my austerity, O best among the powerful; after that, you will see your brother, may it be auspicious for you. The son whom I shall bear for your sake, eager for victory, will share with you, free from affliction, the conquest of the three worlds. At your request, O best of gods, your great-souled father granted me a boon at the end of a thousand years, concerning a son.” Having spoken thus, Diti, as midday approached, was overcome by sleep and placed her feet where her head should have been. Seeing her in this impure state, with her hair at her feet instead of her head, Indra laughed and rejoiced. Indra then entered her body through its opening, and, O Rāma, with supreme power, divided her embryo into seven parts. As the embryo was being split by the thunderbolt with a hundred spikes, it cried out melodiously, O Rāma, and then Diti awoke.