Once more, the desire for a solution arose: “I will again perform austerities,” she said, “or journey to the supreme mountain, Himavat; or, together with pure brahmins cleansed of all sin, I will undertake penance. Perhaps, by their supplication, Ganga—who abides in the matted locks—might be brought down to the earth.” Hearing his mother’s words, the remover of obstacles, Vinayaka, replied, “Let me consult with my brother Skanda and with Jaya; this is the proper course.” Together, they resolved, “Let us act so that my father releases Ganga from his head.” But as these thoughts took shape, a dreadful drought befell the world. For twenty-four years among mortals, this drought brought terror to all living beings. The world of both moving and unmoving creatures was laid waste. Only the auspicious ashram of Gautama, ever-fulfilling, remained untouched. Long ago, wishing to create both stationary and moving beings, I performed a divine sacrifice there. The mountain became renowned by my name and is ever known as Brahmagiri. Upon that sacred mountain, Gautama took up residence, his ashram supremely holy, situated on the excellent and auspicious Brahmagiri. In that place, no afflictions are known—no disease, no famine, no drought, no fear, no grief, nor poverty. Nowhere else, O son, except in that hermitage is there offering or ancestral rite; nowhere else is there a giver, a priest, or a sacrificer. Whenever sage Gautama performs acts of giving and offers oblations, at that very moment, the gods themselves attain their journey to heaven; it happens in no other way. Among gods and mortals alike, Gautama is renowned as priest, giver, and enjoyer—he is known as such throughout the worlds. Learning of this, all the sages from distant hermitages came to take leave of Gautama’s ashram, those ascetics rich in austerity. Gautama received them with deep devotion, caring for each as if they were disciples, sons, or fathers. He served them according to their wishes, in proper order, and in a manner suited to each one. At Gautama’s command, the herbs—the mothers of the world—were worshipped anew, along with Brahma, Vishnu, and Maheshvara. By the power of Gautama’s austerity, those herbs are born, gathered, and thrive at that very time. Every wish conceived in his mind is fulfilled in abundance, and every day Gautama greets the arriving sages with humility: “What shall I do for you—as for sons, disciples, or servants?” For many years, he nourished them all as a father. As the sages dwelt there, Gautama’s fame spread through the three worlds. Then Vinayaka spoke to his mother, his brother, and Jaya: “Mother, in the abode of the gods, the twice-born Gautama is praised: ‘What the hosts of gods could not accomplish, Gautama has done!’ Thus have I heard, O goddess, of the power of the Brahmin’s austerity. That sage could move this Ganga, who dwells in the matted locks, O mother. By his austerity, or by other means, after worshipping the three-eyed one, only he could dislodge her, my father’s beloved, from the matted locks.” Vinayaka continued, “Here, a plan must be devised: let the Brahmin himself request her, so that by his influence, the greatest river descends from the head.” Having spoken thus to his mother, with his brother and Jaya, the Lord of Obstacles went to the ashram of Gautama, the thin bearer of the Brahma-sutra. They dwelt for a few days in the circle of Gautama’s hermitage. Then Vinayaka spoke to all the Brahmins gathered there: “Let us return to our own abodes and pure hermitages; we have been nourished by Gautama’s food. Let us ask the sage Gautama.” Thus deliberating, the eminent sages approached Gautama with their request, but he restrained them, each one, with affectionate wisdom: “With hands joined in reverence and humility, I sit here and serve at your feet, O eminent sages. The desire to serve you, as one would a son, always abides in me. It is not proper for me to attend to other hermitages, O divine sages of the earth. This hermitage alone is holy for all—so is my conviction; there is no need for another, nor for going elsewhere.” Hearing the sage’s words and recalling the obstruction, the leader of the hosts, with palms joined, spoke to the Brahmins: “We have received food; why do you restrain us, O Gautama? By gentle means, we are unable to return to our own dwellings. This excellent twice-born does not deserve punishment, for he is helpful. Therefore, I resolve with discernment—let all consent to this.” Then all the foremost Brahmins replied, “Let it be done,” for the benefit of Gautama and for the welfare of the worlds. “Do as would bring the highest good to all the Brahmins,” they said, and the leader of the hosts considered their words. “Whatever is done, let it be in accordance with the qualities and nature of Gautama, especially.” Having repeatedly sought the approval of all the Brahmins, the noble-minded one himself assumed the form of a Brahmin, bowed to the Brahmins, and, abiding by his mother’s counsel, addressed Jaya with wisdom: “Do so, O auspicious one, so that no one else knows; take the form of a cow and go to where Gautama resides. Eat the rice, destroy it, and cause a change, O beautiful one; when struck, when shouted at, when looked at, fall down, making a pitiable sound—but do not die, nor remain alive.