Whenever the sage Gautama performed acts of giving and offered oblations, at that very moment, the journey of the gods to heaven would take place—there was no other way for them to ascend. Such was the power of Gautama’s offerings that both in the realm of the gods and among mortals, he was celebrated as the priest, the giver, and the enjoyer; all people recognized him for these roles. When this renown spread, all the sages dwelling in various hermitages, those ascetics rich in austerity, heard of Gautama’s greatness and came to take leave of his hermitage. Gautama welcomed every one of them with heartfelt devotion, caring for them as though they were his disciples, sons, or even fathers. He served each sage according to their wishes and needs, in proper order and with the utmost respect. By Gautama’s command, the sacred herbs—the mothers of the world—were worshipped anew, alongside Brahma, Vishnu, and Maheshvara. Through the power of Gautama’s austerities, these herbs were born, gathered, and flourished at the right time. All the wishes Gautama conceived in his mind were fulfilled in abundance, and each day he would humbly greet the arriving sages, asking, “What shall I do for you—as I would for sons, disciples, or servants?” For many years, Gautama nourished them all as a father would his children. As the sages resided in his hermitage, Gautama’s fame spread throughout the three worlds. At this time, Vinayaka spoke to his mother, his brother, and to Jaya, saying, “Mother, in the abode of the gods, the twice-born Gautama is praised. What even the hosts of gods could not accomplish, Gautama has achieved. I have heard, O goddess, of the power of the Brahmin’s austerity—this sage could move the Ganga herself, who dwells in the matted locks, O mother. By his austerity or by other means, and after worshipping the three-eyed one, he alone could dislodge her, my father’s beloved, from the matted locks. We must devise a plan: let the Brahmin request her, so that by his influence, the greatest river may descend from Shiva’s head.” Having spoken thus, Vinayaka, with his brother and Jaya, went to where Gautama, the ascetic bearer of the sacred thread, resided. They dwelt for a few days in the circle of Gautama’s hermitage. Then, the lord of obstacles addressed all the Brahmins there: “Let us return to our own abodes and pure hermitages; we have been nourished by Gautama’s food. Let us seek the sage’s permission.” So, after deliberating, the eminent sages approached Gautama with their request. But he gently restrained each of them with affectionate wisdom, saying, “With hands joined in reverence and humility, I sit here and serve at your feet, O eminent sages. My 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 I am convinced; there is no need for another, nor for going elsewhere.” Hearing Gautama’s words and recalling their purpose, the leader of the hosts, with joined palms, spoke to the Brahmins: “We have received food and hospitality; why do you restrain us, O Gautama? Through 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 what must be done.” All the foremost Brahmins replied, “Let it be done,” wishing for the welfare of all and the benefit of Gautama. “Do what would bring the highest good to all the Brahmins,” they said. The leader of the hosts considered their words carefully: “Whatever is done, let it suit Gautama’s qualities and nature above all.” Having repeatedly sought the approval of the Brahmins, the noble-minded Vinayaka himself assumed the form of a Brahmin, bowed again to the Brahmins, and, following his mother’s counsel, addressed Jayā: “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 bring about a change. When struck, when shouted at, when looked at, fall down with a pitiable sound—neither die nor remain alive.” Jayā, obeying the command of the lord of obstacles, took the form of a cow and went to Gautama’s hermitage. She began eating the rice. Gautama saw her, and seeing her deformed state, the sage tried to restrain her with grass. At his touch, the cow made a sound and fell to the ground, and a great cry arose. Hearing the commotion and seeing Gautama’s act, the Brahmins, distressed and led by the king of obstacles, said, “We all must depart from here; we cannot remain in your hermitage. We have been nurtured like sons, and you have been questioned, O eminent sage.” Hearing the words of the departing Brahmins, Gautama felt as if struck by lightning and fell before them in anguish. The Brahmins said to him, “Let us see this fallen one upon the earth—the mother of the Rudras, the goddess, the beloved purifier of the worlds. O best of sages, since this cow, embodying the holy places and gods, has fallen here by fate, we must proceed accordingly. Just as an observed vow comes to an end, so too does our stay in your hermitage, O Brahmin; we possess no other wealth but the wealth of austerity.” Standing humbly before the Brahmins, Gautama then spoke, ready to hear and accept their counsel.