Seeking refuge and purification, Gautama approached the Lord of Obstacles, Ganesha, who was surrounded by a gathering of Brahmins. The blessed Lord, encircled by these wise ones, spoke to all present, addressing the profound uncertainty that had arisen: “She neither dies here nor lives here—what can be said in this great ambiguity, whether of expiation or of a path forward?” The question lingered: how could the sacred cow, now fallen, be restored, and what expiation might resolve this matter? Gautama implored the Lord to declare the proper course, vowing to undertake whatever would be prescribed without hesitation. The assembly agreed that the wisest among them should pronounce the solution, and whatever he decreed would be accepted as authoritative, especially by Gautama. Thus urged by the Brahmins and the powerful sage Gautama, the Remover of Obstacles, taking the form of Brahma, addressed the gathering: “With the consent of all, I will speak the truth as it is. Let the sages and Gautama approve my words.” He recalled that the sacred water from Brahma’s own water-pot, the source of the unmanifest, dwelt in the matted locks of great Shiva. “Bring that water swiftly, with austerity and discipline,” he instructed, “and with it, bathe this cow who has sought refuge on earth. Then, O Lord, we shall all remain as before in your dwelling.” As these words were spoken in the assembly, a shower of flowers rained down, and cries of victory swelled among the Brahmins. Gautama, palms joined and head bowed, spoke with gratitude: “By the fire of austerity, by the favor of the gods and Brahma, and by your grace, may my intention be fulfilled.” The Brahmins, blessing Gautama, took their leave and returned to their prosperous homes. The Lord of Hosts, pleased and his task accomplished, departed with his brother and Victory. When the assembly had dispersed, Gautama too withdrew, purified of sin through his austerities. Alone, the sage contemplated deeply: what was the true meaning of all that had transpired? Through knowledge, he understood that this event had unfolded for the sake of the gods, for the removal of his own sin, for the welfare of the worlds, and for the pleasure of both Śambhu (Shiva) and Umā. The bringing of Gaṅgā, he realized, would be supremely auspicious—there was truly no sin in him. With his mind thus resolved, Gautama, best of the twice-born, rejoiced. He worshipped the Lord of the worlds, the three-eyed one, the bull-bannered Shiva. He resolved: “I shall bring the best of rivers. May Girijā, the Mother of the world and consort of Maheśvara, who dwells in Shiva’s matted locks, be pleased with me.” With this determination, Gautama journeyed to Kailāsa, the sacred abode of mighty Shiva, worshipped by gods, accompanied by his beloved and a host of Brahma’s attendants. Upon reaching the peak of Kailāsa, the venerable sage Gautama restrained his speech, spread out kuśa grass, and seated himself in deep composure upon the supreme mountain. Having purified himself, he began to sing a hymn of praise to Maheśvara. As he chanted, a shower of flowers fell from above. He praised Soma, who, to grant the desires of seekers, assumes eight great forms, always endowed with virtues. The Lord, he sang, takes the form of earth to create pleasures in his domains, to sustain all that moves and is still, and to ensure prosperity and increase. For creation, maintenance, and dissolution, and to support the earth, Shiva, peaceful in form, became water for the happiness and righteousness of people, and for the world’s stability. He established the order of time, the flow of immortality, the existence of living beings, creation and destruction, and the joys and prosperity of all, assuming a body made of sun, moon, and fire. To create growth, movement, power, the imperishable letters, and the order of living beings, the Lord took the form of wind. Beyond all distinctions, actions, righteousness, or opposites, he is the essence of space itself, beyond directions, heaven and earth, enjoyment or liberation. To establish righteousness, the Lord determined the Ṛk, Sāman, and Yajus branches, and in the world, the songs, smṛtis, and Purāṇas—all take the form of words. He is the sacrificer, the sacrifice, and all its means; the priest’s place, the fruit, and the times—Śambhu alone is the supreme reality, his body composed of the limbs of sacrifice. He is the doer, the giver, the guarantor, the gift, the all-knowing witness, the supreme person present in every soul—the ultimate reality. “You are everything; what need is there for the play of words?” Gautama sang. “You are not established by Vedic scripture or by teachers, nor are you grasped by intellect or other means. Unborn, immeasurable, denoted by the name Śiva—truly, O Lord, I bow to you.” He recalled how once, Shiva beheld his own unique nature as oneness of self—transcending all notions of ‘mine’ and ‘not mine’—and in that moment became unfathomable, of inconceivable power, and of many universal forms. Ever-abiding, she who is his power dwells as the cause of her own cause, eternal, auspicious, possessing or transcending all noble marks. In her alone reside creation, preservation, the increase of food, and the dissolution of beings—nothing is impossible for her, beloved of Hara. For her sake, people offer food, wealth, and lives, perform austerities and righteous acts—she is the Mother, the world’s originator, beloved of Soma. What even Indra desires to behold, by whose name one attains auspiciousness, who pervades and purifies the universe—she is always Soma, equal in form to Soma. By her grace, the intellect, senses, consciousness, and happiness of Brahma and all living beings bear fruit—she is Vāgīśvarī, the beautiful consort of the world’s teacher. If even the mind of four-faced Brahma can be impure, what of other beings? Thus, Mother Ganga, by various means, undertook to purify the entire world through her descent. Thus, Gautama’s hymn resounded on Kailāsa, his heart intent upon bringing the sacred Gaṅgā to earth, for the welfare of all creation.