As the tale unfolds, Diti, the mother of the mighty Daityas, addresses Indra, the best among the powerful, saying, “Ten years remain of my austerity, O Indra. After that, may it be auspicious for you, you will see your brother.” She promises, “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.” Diti reminds Indra, “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. She lay down, but placed her feet where her head should be, thus becoming impure. Indra, seeing her in this state—with her hair at her feet instead of her head—laughed and rejoiced. Seizing this opportunity, Indra entered her body through its opening, and with supreme power, divided her embryo into seven parts. As Indra split the embryo with his thunderbolt, which bore a hundred spikes, the embryo cried out melodiously, and Diti awoke. Indra spoke to the embryo, saying, “Do not cry, do not cry,” but even as it wept, the mighty Indra continued to split it. Diti, distressed, pleaded, “Do not kill, do not kill,” and out of respect for his mother’s words, Indra withdrew. Thunderbolt in hand and palms joined, Indra addressed Diti: “O goddess, you slept impure, with your head at your feet. Finding that moment, O goddess, 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 to the forty-seventh sarga in the glorious Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa, Bālakāṇḍa. When her embryo had been divided into seven, Diti, greatly distressed, spoke gently to the unconquerable, thousand-eyed Indra. “Because of my fault, this embryo has been split into seven parts; O lord of the gods, slayer of strong ones, there is no fault of yours in this matter. I wish for you to do something pleasing for me regarding the fate of my embryo: let these seven become the guardians of the seven groups of Maruts. These seven, carried by the wind, O son, may roam the heavens; let them be known as Maruts, divine in form, my own children. Let one move in Brahmā’s world, another in Indra’s world; the third, renowned as Divyavāyu, also of great fame. And four, O best of gods, by your command, will roam the directions. May good fortune be yours; in time, these are my sons. By your deed, they will be known by the name Maruts.” Hearing her words, the thousand-eyed Purandara, slayer of Bala, with joined palms, replied, “All this will happen just as you have said, without doubt. Your sons, divine in form, will roam as you wish.” Thus, having made this agreement, mother and son in the forest of austerities fulfilled their purpose and departed for heaven. O Rama, this is the place, O descendant of Kakutstha, once inhabited by Mahendra. Here, Diti, accomplished in austerity, moved about. And, O tiger among men, the son of Ikṣvāku, supremely righteous—born of Alambuṣā—was renowned as Viśāla; and by him, in this place, the city called Viśālā was founded. Viśāla’s son was the mighty Hemacandra, and after Hemacandra, his famous son was Sucandra. The illustrious son of Sucandra was known as Dhūmrāśva; and Dhūmrāśva’s son was Sṛñjaya. Sṛñjaya’s son was the glorious and mighty Sahadeva; and 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 sleep 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. Having performed the highest honors, together with his teachers and relatives, with joined palms, after inquiring of 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 forty-eighth sarga in the glorious Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa, Bālakāṇḍa. After inquiring of each other’s welfare upon meeting, at the end of their conversation, Sumati spoke these words to the great sage: “May you be blessed—who are these two youths, equal to the gods in valor, whose gait is like that of elephants and lions, heroic, resembling tigers and bulls? With eyes wide as lotus petals, bearing swords, quivers, and bows, they stand in the fullness of youth, like the Aśvins in beauty. Arrived here by chance, like immortals from the world of the gods, how have they come here on foot, for what purpose, and whose are they, O sage? Adorning this land like the moon and sun adorn the sky, they are alike in stature, bearing, and movement.” Thus, the story flows from the tale of Diti and Indra, through the founding of Viśālā and the noble lineage of kings, to the arrival of Rama and Lakshmana, whose presence inspires wonder and admiration in all who behold them.