Diti, weighed down by sorrow, approached her illustrious husband, the sage Kasyapa. With deep yearning, she implored him, “I wish to undertake severe austerity. Please grant me your consent and bless me with a son—a son who will one day be the slayer of Indra, O lord.” Hearing her heartfelt plea, the radiant and powerful Kasyapa addressed Diti, who was overcome with grief. “So be it,” he said gently. “May auspiciousness be yours. Remain pure, O devoted one, and you shall bear a son who will defeat Indra in battle. If you can maintain your purity without flaw for a full thousand years, you will bear from me a son of such power that he could even destroy the three worlds.” Having spoken these words, the luminous sage blessed Diti with a gentle touch of his hand and then departed to continue his own austerities. Filled with joy at her husband’s promise, Diti journeyed to the sacred place called Kushaplava and began her arduous penance. As Diti performed her austerities, Indra, endowed with great virtues, approached her and began to serve her faithfully. He brought her all that she needed—fire, kusa grass, wood, water, fruits, roots, and anything else she desired. Indra himself tended to her comfort, massaging her and relieving her fatigue, ever attentive to her needs. Time passed. When only ten years remained of the thousand-year vow, Diti, her heart brimming with anticipation, spoke to Indra: “Only ten years remain of my austerity, O mighty one. After that, you will see your brother, and may it be auspicious for you. The son I bear, eager for victory, will join you in conquering the three worlds, free from affliction. At your request, your great father granted me this boon—a son to be born at the end of these thousand years.” Having spoken thus, Diti, as midday approached, was overcome by sleep. In her exhaustion, she lay down carelessly, placing her feet where her head should be, and thus lost her purity. Indra, observing her in this impure state, laughed quietly to himself, seeing his opportunity. With supreme power, he entered her body and, using his thunderbolt, divided the embryo within her into seven parts. As the embryo was being split by Indra’s thunderbolt, it cried out melodiously. Diti awoke, alarmed by the sound. Indra soothed the embryo, saying, “Do not cry, do not cry,” but continued to divide it even as it wept. Diti, realizing what was happening, implored, “Do not kill, do not kill.” Out of respect for his mother’s plea, Indra restrained himself. Indra, holding his thunderbolt and bowing with joined palms, addressed Diti: “O goddess, you fell asleep impure, with your head at your feet. Seeing this, I split your embryo—who would have become my slayer in battle—into seven parts. Please forgive me for this act.” Now, listen, O Rāma, to the next part of the story as told in the glorious Rāmāyaṇa. When her embryo had been divided into seven, Diti, stricken with grief, spoke gently to Indra, the thousand-eyed and unconquerable. “Because of my own fault, this embryo has been split into seven. O lord of the gods, slayer of the mighty, you are blameless in this matter. I ask only one thing of you: do something pleasing for me regarding the fate of these seven. Let them become the guardians of the seven groups of Maruts.” “May these seven, carried by the wind, roam the heavens as Maruts, divine in form and my own children. Let one dwell in the world of Brahmā, another in the world of Indra, and the third, renowned as Divyavāyu, be famed as well. The remaining four, O best of gods, by your command, shall roam the four directions. May good fortune be yours; in time, these shall be my sons. By your deed, they will be known as the Maruts.” Indra, the thousand-eyed slayer of Bala, bowed to her and replied, “All will be as you have said, without doubt. Your sons, divine in form, will roam as you wish.” Thus, mother and son, having reached this agreement in the forest of austerities, completed their purpose and ascended to the heavens. This very place, O Rāma, once was the abode of mighty Indra. Here, Diti, accomplished in her penance, dwelled. O noble descendant of Ikṣvāku, know also of the illustrious lineage that arose here. Born of Alambuṣā was Viśāla, famed and righteous, who founded the city of Viśālā in this very land. Viśāla’s son was the mighty Hemacandra, whose own son was the renowned Sucandra. Sucandra’s illustrious son was Dhūmrāśva, and from him was born Sṛñjaya. Sṛñjaya’s son was the glorious and valiant Sahadeva, whose son was the supremely righteous Kuśāśva. Kuśāśva’s son was the powerful Somadatta, and his son was known as Kākutstha. Now, Kākutstha’s illustrious son, Sumati—brilliant, famed, and unconquerable—dwells in this city. By the grace of Ikṣvāku, all the kings of Vaiśālī are long-lived, noble, valiant, and highly righteous, upholding the glory of their lineage.