Puru, a prince of great righteousness, came to rule his kingdom with much renown, establishing his fame in the splendid city of Pratishthana, within the realm of Kashi. Meanwhile, Yadu, having been cast out from the royal lineage, gave rise to thousands of yatudhanas—powerful beings—who took birth in the city, in the depths of the Krauncha forest, and within a fortress. Freed from the curse of Ushanas by Yayati, Yadu fulfilled the duties of a kshatriya, a task that Nimi himself had been unable to bear. With these accounts, the vision of those ancient deeds was shared. “Let us proceed carefully, gentle one,” said the narrator, “so that no error may arise, as happened with King Nriga.” As Rama spoke, and the one with a face radiant as the moon listened, the sky above became scattered with only a few stars. In the east, the horizon glowed red with the rays of the rising sun, shining like a garment freshly spread out, unwrinkled and free from the stains of flower-juice. Thus concluded the fifty-ninth sarga of the glorious Uttarakanda of the venerable Ramayana, the first poem composed by Valmiki. As Rama and Lakshmana continued their conversation, the gentle night of spring descended—neither cold nor oppressive with heat. When dawn broke, clear and serene, Rama, the scion of Kakutstha, completed his morning rituals and turned his attention to the affairs of his people. At that moment, Sumantra approached Rama and spoke: “O King, ascetics are waiting at the gate; their entry has been delayed.” He continued, “Led by Bhargava Cyavana, these great sages—dwellers on the banks of the Yamuna—are eager and delighted, and they seek an audience with you, O noble king.” Hearing these words, Rama, ever mindful of dharma, replied, “Let the illustrious Brahmanas, with Bhargava at their head, be admitted.” At the king’s command, the doorkeeper, with palms joined above his head in reverence, ushered in the ascetics—who were not easy to approach. More than a hundred ascetics of great soul entered the royal palace, each shining with their own inner radiance. These Brahmanas carried water pots filled with the sacred waters of all holy fords, and bore fruits and roots as offerings for Rama. Rama received the sacred waters and the many fruits with joy and reverence. With his mighty arms, Rama addressed the assembled sages: “Here are the chief seats—please be seated as is fitting.” Hearing his words, the great sages sat down upon the beautiful golden seats known as brisis. Seeing the sages thus seated, Rama, the conqueror of enemy cities, approached them with joined palms and self-restraint, and spoke: “For what purpose have you come? What shall I do with full attention? I am to be commanded by the great sages, and will fulfill every wish for your comfort. This entire kingdom, and my very life, I hold in my heart for your sake alone. This is the truth I speak to you.” Hearing these sincere words, a great acclamation arose among the sages, who practiced fierce austerities on the banks of the Yamuna. Filled with joy, they said, “O best of men, such conduct is fitting for you alone on earth; no other could match you. Many kings, though powerful, have refrained from making such promises, knowing their gravity. But you, out of respect for the Brahmanas, have made this promise without hesitation. Therefore, you must act—there is no doubt—you must save the sages from great danger.” Thus concluded the sixtieth sarga of the glorious Uttarakanda in the venerable Ramayana, the first poem composed by Valmiki. As the sages spoke thus, Rama, descendant of Kakutstha, addressed them: “Tell me what must be done, O sages, so that your fear may be dispelled.” In response, Bhargava spoke: “Listen, O King, to the root of our fears and of this land.” “In the former Krita Yuga, O King, there lived a mighty Daitya, the eldest son of Lolata, named Madhu—a great Asura. Madhu was devoted to the Brahmanas, a giver of refuge, steadfast in wisdom, and so generous that even the gods held him in incomparable affection. This Madhu, endowed with great strength and firm in righteousness, performed austerities for many thousands of years to please Rudra. Pleased with his devotion, Rudra appeared before Madhu and, out of great respect, granted him a wondrous boon. Drawing forth a radiant trident from his own, Rudra gave it to Madhu and spoke: ‘Because you have performed this incomparable act of righteousness, pleasing to me with utmost devotion, I give you this supreme weapon. As long as you do not act against the gods or Brahmanas, O great Asura, this trident will remain yours; otherwise, it will surely be destroyed. Whoever attacks you in battle, without fear, this trident will reduce him to ashes and then return to your hand.’ Having received the boon from Rudra, the great Asura bowed to Mahadeva and said, ‘Lord, may this supreme trident always belong to my lineage, for you are indeed the lord of the gods.’ To this, Shiva, lord of all beings, replied with great brilliance: ‘It shall not be so. Let not your words, spoken through my favor, be fruitless; but only one son of yours shall possess this trident. As long as this trident is in your son’s hand, he will be invincible to all beings—he who holds the trident.