As the embryo within Diti was being split apart by Indra’s thunderbolt of a hundred spikes, it cried out in a melodious voice, O Rama, and at that sound, Diti awoke from her sleep. Indra, beholding the embryo, spoke gently, “Do not cry, do not cry,” but even as the embryo wept, the mighty Indra continued to divide it. Hearing her child’s cries, Diti pleaded, “Do not kill, do not kill,” and out of respect for his mother’s words, Indra withdrew. With the thunderbolt still in his hand and his palms joined in reverence, Indra addressed Diti, saying, “O goddess, you fell asleep impure, with your head at your feet. In that moment, O goddess, I split the embryo—who would have become my slayer in battle—into seven parts. For this, you ought to forgive me.” Now, O Rama, listen to the forty-seventh sarga of the glorious Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa, Bālakāṇḍa. When her embryo had been divided into seven, Diti, greatly distressed, spoke gentle words to Indra, the unconquerable thousand-eyed one: “Due to my own fault, this embryo has been split into seven parts; O lord of the gods, slayer of the strong, you are without blame in this matter. I ask you to grant me a favor regarding the fate of my children: let these seven become the guardians of the seven groups of Maruts. Let these seven, carried by the wind, O son, roam the heavens; let them be known as Maruts, divine in form, my own children. Let one dwell in Brahmā’s world, another in Indra’s world, and 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, Indra, the thousand-eyed Purandara and 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 come to this agreement, mother and son, their purpose accomplished, went to heaven from that forest of austerities. O Rama, this is the very place, O descendant of Kakutstha, that was once inhabited by Mahendra. Here, Diti, accomplished in her austerities, moved about. And, O tiger among men, the son of Ikṣvāku, supremely righteous, was born here of Alambuṣā and became renowned as Viśāla. By him, in this place, the city called Viśālā was established. 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; 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, O Rama; and tomorrow morning, you should go to see Janaka. When Sumati, radiant and renowned, heard that Viśvāmitra had arrived, he returned at once. With his teachers and relatives, he performed the highest honors, greeted Viśvāmitra with joined palms, inquired after his welfare, and spoke: “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 of the glorious Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa, Bālakāṇḍa. After exchanging greetings and inquiring of each other’s welfare, Sumati spoke 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, as beautiful as the Aśvins. Arrived here by chance, like immortals from the world of the gods, how have they come here on foot, for what purpose, and whose sons are they, O sage? Adorning this land as the moon and sun adorn the sky, they are alike in stature, bearing, and movement. For what reason have these best of men come upon this difficult path, bearing excellent weapons? I wish to hear the truth.” Hearing these words, Viśvāmitra recounted all that had occurred: their stay at Siddhāśrama, the slaying of the Rākṣasas, and all their deeds. The king was greatly astonished on hearing Viśvāmitra’s words. He received as honored guests the two sons of Daśaratha, worthy of respect and mighty, and honored them according to custom. Having received the highest hospitality from the noble-minded Sumati, the two Raghavas, after spending one night there, proceeded towards Mithilā. As they approached the auspicious city of Janaka, all the sages praised Mithilā, saying “Excellent, excellent!” and honored her greatly. There, in the grove near Mithilā, Rāghava saw an ancient, deserted, and charming hermitage, and questioned the foremost of sages about it.