Long long ago, when the world was young, there lived a demon king. A demon king unlike any other, for though his race - that of the "asura" - were cruel, mean, vicious and heartless, he and his people were everything that they were not. His name was Mahabali.
             Mahabali was just, kind, generous and very very powerful. His kingdom spanned the Seven Seas, encompassed the Three Great Oceans. The Four Winds were his > courtiers. His fame and might knew no bounds, and his kingdom grew and grew and grew until the entire earth was under his benign sway. It did not stop there, and soon, the dank forests, the dreary plains and the deep fires of the netherworld knew him as their emperor.
             The borders of his kingdom lapped against the world of the Gods. His might showed no signs of stopping. At this time, sentiments that were strange to them began spreading among the Gods. Would they have to acknowledge Mahabali as Emperor? Horror of horrors!
             In despair, they decided to approach Vishnu the Preserver. They went to him at his abode, on the Ocean of Milk. Vishnu was resting on the coils of the Great Serpent, Sheshnag of the thousand heads. On hearing their desperate pleas, He agreed to help them.
             Vishnu descended to earth at a time when Mahabali was involved in a sacred ceremony. At this ceremony, Mahabali would give whatever anyone asked of him... land, elephants, gold, rice, silks, rare and precious stones, pearls of the highest lustre... anything. The throng of people seemed never-ending, for denizens of the three worlds crowded at his palace gates, and partook of his offerings. They praised his name and spoke of his glory and merit.
             His kingdom threatened the gates of heaven even more... and yet, despite the people of the three worlds coming to take of his treasury, his coffers showed no signs of running out, his granaries still overflowed and his stables and stud farms remained plentiful.
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