In a forest of exceptional beauty, beloved by Gandharvas and Apsarases, the air was filled with the melodious humming of intoxicated bees. The very sight of this place brought delight to the heart. It was a charming and auspicious woodland, holy and captivating to all who beheld it. Birds of many kinds filled the air with sweet songs, and even the sons of Kadru—the serpents—found joy there. When the serpents arrived in this enchanting forest, their spirits lifted and they rejoiced. Turning to Suparṇa, the mighty lord of birds, they spoke: “O sky-roamer, carry us to another island, one even more delightful, with pure, clear waters. You, who travel the heavens, have seen many beautiful lands—surely you know of such a place.” Hearing their request, the great bird paused and, reflecting deeply, turned to his mother, Vinatā. “Mother,” he asked, “why must I do as these serpents ask of me?” Vinatā sighed and revealed her sorrow. “O best of birds, through misfortune and the trickery of my co-wife, I have become a slave. The serpents deceived me with a false wager and bound me to their will.” When his mother finished speaking, the mighty sky-roamer was filled with sadness. He addressed the serpents: “Tell me truly, O licking ones, by what means—whether by bringing or knowing something, or by some act of valor—can I free my mother from this bondage?” The serpents replied, “O sky-roamer, bring us amṛta, the nectar of immortality, by your power. Then your mother will be freed from slavery.” Thus instructed, Garuḍa turned to Vinatā and said, “Mother, I will go and bring the amṛta. But tell me, what food may I eat along the way?” Vinatā answered, “At the edge of the ocean’s depths lies the finest abode of the Nishadas. There, O best of the twice-born, are their dwellings. Thousands of Nishadas live there—sinful, cut off from the world, merciless, and wicked. Consume them, and then bring back the nectar. “But, my son, never resolve to kill a Brahmana under any circumstance. The Brahmana is inviolable among all beings, without blemish. Fire, the sun, poison, and weapons—all become as a Brahmana when angered. The Brahmana is proclaimed as the teacher of all creatures. “These are the qualities by which the virtuous honor the Brahmana. He must not be slain, even in anger, at any time. Never commit an assault against Brahmanas; just as fire or the sun would not burn the innocent, so too must you refrain. “You may recognize a Brahmana by his firm vows and his conduct when enraged. He is foremost among beings, highest among castes, father, and teacher. If you wonder how to recognize him, know that he shines like fire, displays a gentle demeanor, and bears auspicious marks. “If one reaches your throat and burns like a live coal, recognize him as an excellent Brahmana; such a one must never be slain by you, even in anger. Remember, my son: he who does not decay in your belly is an excellent twice-born. “Again, even if you know his incomparable power, those devoted to blessings must not harm him. May the wind protect your wings, and the moon and sun guard your back. May fire protect your head, the Vasus your whole body, and Vishnu, who is everywhere, all your limbs. As your mother, I shall always be devoted to your peace and welfare. “I shall remain here, always engaged in auspicious rites. Go, my son, along a safe path, and accomplish your task.” Hearing his mother’s words, Garuḍa spread his mighty wings and soared into the sky. Hungry as the god of death at the appointed hour, he swiftly approached the Nishadas. With a great flurry, he consumed them, raising a cloud of dust that touched the sky. The very waters of the ocean’s depths dried up, and nearby mountains trembled at his power. The king of birds then created an immense mouth, blocking the path of the Nishadas. In their haste and terror, the Nishadas rushed toward the gaping maw of the devourer of serpents, like birds struck from the sky, falling by the thousands, bewildered as trees shaken by a storm in the forest. With swift movement and relying on his own strength, Garuḍa gathered up the fish-eating Nishadas and devoured them, satisfying his hunger. As he did so, a Brahmin and his wife entered his throat. The Brahmin, burning like a blazing coal, spoke from within the sky-roamer: “O best of the twice-born, quickly let us out of your mouth; for a Brahmin must never be slain by me, even if always engaged in sinful acts.” Garuḍa replied, “This Nishadi is my wife—let her leave together with me.” “Take the Nishadi as well and swiftly depart,” Garuḍa said. “Quickly compose yourself, for my energy has not yet digested you.” Thus, the Brahmin and his wife exited Garuḍa’s mouth. They honored the great bird and went on their way. With the Brahmin and his wife safely gone, the king of birds spread his wings and soared again into the sky, swift as thought. He saw his father and, turning respectfully, reported to him as was proper. The great sage asked, “Is everything always well for you, my son, with abundant food? And in the world of men, do you have plenty to eat? Where are you going so swiftly? Tell me.” Garuḍa replied, “My mother is well, and so is my brother, and so am I. But, father, I am never truly well when it comes to abundant food.