In the lands where the great rivers flow and mountains rise, there dwelt many royal clans and noble peoples. Among them were the Aśvins, the famed descendants of Arjuna, and the valorous Trigartas and Kekayas. The small but proud Mācelas and the Cūstavas made their homes in these regions as well. Alongside them lived the Ambalas and Prasthalas, the Śākas, and those known as the Kṣemadhūrtas. From the distant Antaradvīpa came others, as did the Gandhāras and the Vandivaṭastavas, each with their own customs and ways. Cities of renown dotted the land: Takṣaśilā, a seat of wisdom; Lavaṇāvatī, gleaming in the sun; Puṣkalāvatī, rich and prosperous; and Yaśovatī, famed for its glory. Beyond these were Maṇimatī, the home of shining jewels, the Śyāmākās, and the Khacaras. The Dāśadānas and Gavyasanas, together with the Daṇḍahavyasanas, shared their borders. The Dānadās, Śūrakās, and Vāṭādhāras added to the multitude, as did the city of Kohaka and the thriving Surabhūtipura. There were also the Taṭakādarśas and Danturādarśas, followed by the Piṇḍalamālas, Vyāyaneyas, and the Ābhidhānakas. Mālahālā, Hūna, Hematāla, and Āśvāsa were counted among these, as were Svamukha and the sacred mountain Himavān. Vasumān, Kauñja, Kailāsa, and the city of Ayut stood as guardians of the land. All these peoples and places stretched across a vast expanse, eighty hundred yojanas wide. To the northeast, other peoples dwelt: the Kaulūtas, Brahmaputras, Kuvindas, and Dinādanas; the Maḍavas, those whose kingdoms had faded, and the dwellers in the deep forests. The Kaiḍabhallas and Siṃhapuras, the Cāmavataṅganas, Sārpātakas, Pārvatakas, the Kaśmīras, and the Daradas lived in these lands. The Abhisāras, Jadārvākas, Pallolukas, and Ciroḍunas, along with the Kirātas, cowherds, and the distant Cīnas, all found their place here, as did those who lived in the land of gold. These regions were adorned with sacred groves, devasthalas, and lands praised by Viśvāvasu. There stood the temple of supreme prosperity, the holy land of Kailāsa, the Muñja forest, and the mountains where Vidyādharas made their home, amidst the resplendent palaces of the gods. But in the midst of all this splendor, a fierce and terrible battle raged. Men and elephants fell, struck down with violence. Each warrior, burning with valor, cried, “I will go first! I will go first!” and hurled themselves forward, only to fall in groups upon the field. Many perished, reduced to ashes, their efforts like moths drawn into a consuming flame. Yet, beyond these, there were other people of the central regions, not yet named. Now, let us remember them—the allies of Lila’s husband, the king. The Uddehikas, Shurasenas, Gudas, and Ashvatthanipakas stood ready, as did the Uttamajyotikadras and Padamadhyamikas. The Salvakas, Ketakas, Matsyas, Dauleyakas, Kapishtalas, Mandavyapandunagaras, Sauragrivas, and Gurugrahas joined the fray. The Pariyatras, Kuradhyas, Yamunodumbaras, Gajahvas, Ujjihanas, Kalakotikas, and Mathuras marched as one. The Kapolas and Dharmaranyas, from both the north and south, came forth, along with the Panchalas, Kurukshetras, and the Sarasvata people. The Avantis, Syandanas, Shrenis, Kuntas, and those from the five rivers fled in streams, seeking refuge on the great mountain. The Kashas and Brahmavasatas fell beneath the onslaught of the Sambavati, trampled by maddened elephants. The brave men of Dashapura, their bodies torn by weapons, were struck down by the Tarakshatis and cast into a vast lake. On the battlefield, the warriors of Ṛṣyaka, Kārūruka, and Kaccha, bearing the marks of Śaivya and Śaṅku, became covered in mud, trampled by the advancing armies. Those seeking shelter fled to the forested slopes and hills, but many perished in the waters of the Yamunā. The night was filled with horror: bodies with bellies torn open, entrails exposed, lay still as ghouls gnawed them in the darkness. Some, struck down by the noble Bhadragiri warriors, were cast into the earth’s pits like lotus stalks thrust into a pond. Their blood flowed as if melting, and the great charioteers were routed and scattered, swept away by the wild winds of Daṇḍaka, just as the Hehayas were once swept away by Hari. Split by the tusks of elephants, enemies crushed and broken, the fallen were carried away in a great river of blood, like tender shoots swept downstream. The Cīna warriors, pierced by arrows, their lives shattered, abandoned their bodies to the ocean, burdens to the earth no more. The valiant Ābhīra heroes, their mountain caves pierced by the spears of the mighty Karṇāṭa and Oḍḍīna warriors, perished in the sky like clusters of stars fading at dawn. The Śaka warriors, who had set forth with the strength of elephants and crocodiles, found themselves overpowered; their hair became entangled with that of their foes as they bowed in defeat. From Daśārṇa, a thunderbolt broke its chains, terrifying as Bhairava’s net, and hid itself in the red clouds, just as the Vaitastā river disappears into the sea. The destruction of the Gurjara army brought sorrow: the hair of Gurjara women was shorn by the sharp spears of the Taṅgaṇa warriors. Weapons, shining like lightning, poured from the sky—arrows raining down like torrents, devastating the armies as fish are struck by a flood. Among the Ābhīras, terror spread at the ominous flight of the Bhusuṇḍī birds, and enemies fell like herds of cows collapsing on green pastures. The Taṅgaṇa river, adorned with golden-bodied, naked women, was ravaged by Gauḍa soldiers, their nails and hair torn in the struggle. The Taṅgaṇa warriors themselves were scattered in fragments by the whirling, cutting disks that circled the tumultuous sky, and vultures and kites, fierce as the Rudras, swooped down to devour them. The loud, rumbling uproar of the Gauḍa warriors, brandishing clubs and leaping about, sent terror through the Gandhāra cows, who fled as if counted and measured. A mass of whirling weapons, vast as the sky and ocean, descended upon the Persians, casting a darkness dense as night. Weapons, beautiful as the churning of the ocean by Mandara mountain, were strewn like a garland of trees upon the snowy slopes, resembling a line of missiles poised for destruction. Thus, the peoples and lands, the cities and mountains, and the warriors and their fates are woven together in this tapestry of conflict and glory, each name and place bearing witness to the grandeur and the sorrow of those times.