While Diti was engaged in her long and arduous austerities, O best of men, Indra—the mighty and virtuous king of the gods—served her with devotion. Indra provided for all her needs: he brought her fire for her rituals, kusa grass, wood, water, fruits, roots, and anything else her heart desired. He attended to her constantly, easing her fatigue with gentle massages and seeing to her comfort at every moment. As the thousand years of her penance neared completion, and only ten years remained, Diti, filled with joy, spoke to Indra. “Ten years remain of my vow, O best among the powerful. When they are complete, you shall see your brother, and may it be auspicious for you. The son 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 lord among the gods, your great-souled father granted me a boon at the end of a thousand years: a son.” Having spoken thus, Diti, as midday approached, was overcome by sleep. In her weariness, she lay down with her feet where her head should have been, violating the purity required of her vow. Indra saw her in this impure state, her hair at her feet instead of her head, and he laughed, rejoicing at the opportunity. Seizing that moment, Indra entered her body through its opening. By his supreme power, he divided her embryo into seven parts. As he split the embryo with his thunderbolt, which bore a hundred spikes, the embryo cried out melodiously, and Diti awoke. Indra spoke soothingly to the embryo, “Do not cry, do not cry,” but even as it wept, he continued to divide it. Diti, awakened, cried out, “Do not kill, do not kill!” Out of respect for his mother’s words, Indra withdrew. Thunderbolt in hand, Indra joined his palms and spoke reverently to Diti: “O goddess, you slept impure, with your head at your feet. Finding that moment, I split the embryo—who would have been my slayer in battle—into seven parts. For this, you ought to forgive me.” Now, O Rama, listen as the next chapter of this story unfolds. When her embryo had been divided into seven, Diti, greatly distressed, addressed the unconquerable thousand-eyed Indra with gentle words. “Because of my fault, this embryo has been split into seven parts. O lord of the gods, slayer of the strong, there is no fault of yours in this. I ask you now to do something pleasing for me regarding the fate of my children: let these seven become the guardians of the seven groups of Maruts. Let them, carried by the wind, roam the heavens and be known as Maruts, divine in form, my own sons. Let one dwell in Brahma’s world, another in your own, O Indra, and the third, renowned as Divyavāyu, also of great fame. Let the remaining four, by your command, roam the directions. May good fortune be yours; in time, these shall be my sons. Because of your deed, they will be known as the Maruts.” Hearing her words, the thousand-eyed Purandara, slayer of Bala, joined his palms and replied, “All shall happen just as you have said, without doubt. Your sons, divine in form, will roam as you wish.” Thus, mother and son, their purpose accomplished, remained for a time in the forest of austerities. Thereafter, it is said, they both ascended to heaven, their task fulfilled. O Rama, this is the very place where Mahendra, the mighty Indra, once dwelled. Here, Diti, accomplished in her penance, moved about. And, O tiger among men, in this place was born Viśāla, son of Alambuṣā and renowned among the sons of Ikṣvāku. It was he who founded the city called Viśālā. Viśāla’s son was the mighty Hemacandra; after Hemacandra came his famous son Sucandra. Sucandra’s illustrious son was known as Dhūmrāśva, and Dhūmrāśva’s son was Sṛñjaya. Sṛñjaya’s son was the glorious and mighty Sahadeva; Sahadeva’s son was Kuśāśva, supremely righteous. Kuśāśva’s son was the great and powerful Somadatta, and Somadatta’s son was renowned as Kākutstha. His son, of great brilliance, now dwells in this city—famed and unconquerable, his name is Sumati. By the grace of Ikṣvāku, all the kings of Vaiśālī are long-lived, noble, valiant, and highly righteous. Here, tonight, we shall rest comfortably for one night; tomorrow morning, O best of men, you should see Janaka. Sumati, of great splendor, having heard that Viśvāmitra had arrived, returned, O best of men, greatly renowned. He performed the highest honors, together with his teachers and relatives, and with joined palms, after inquiring after his welfare, he spoke to Viśvāmitra: “Blessed am I, and favored am I, O sage, whose land you have entered. Having seen you, there is none more fortunate than I.” Now, O Rama, listen to the next chapter of this sacred tale. Having inquired after one another’s welfare, and at the end of their conversation, Sumati spoke these words to the great sage.