O sage, listen as I recount this remarkable tale. There was a radiant son named Sanājjāta, shining like the sun, born to Dhṛtavrata and his wife. In the course of time, Death, moved by destiny, carried Dhṛtavrata away from the world, leaving his young wife widowed and alone, with only her small child for company. Beautiful in form but bereft of any protector, she sought refuge in the hermitage of the venerable sage Gālava. Entrusting her little son to Gālava’s care, the widow, overwhelmed by sorrow and desire, wandered through many lands. Unable to restrain her passions, she sought out men and indulged in her cravings, leaving her son behind. The boy, though raised in Gālava’s hermitage and thoroughly trained in the Vedas and their branches, was nonetheless affected by his mother’s conduct. The fault of his mother cast a shadow on his mind, inclining him toward the ways of courtesans. As he grew, he took up residence in a place called Janasthāna, a region populated by people of many kinds. There, too, lived his mother, Mahī, who had disguised herself as a merchant. By the force of fate, her son, now a pleasure-seeker, also wandered many lands and eventually settled in Janasthāna. Sanājjāta, the twice-born son of Dhṛtavrata, became enamored with a courtesan, while Mahī sought wealth and the company of men who would offer her gifts. Neither recognized the other—he did not see her as his mother, nor did she see him as her son. By the workings of destiny, a union occurred between them, mother and son, without their knowledge. Thus, much time passed as they lived together, each unaware of their true relationship. Yet, even as he followed this improper path, a good thought arose in Sanājjāta. Listen, O Nārada, to this extraordinary story. Though he lived as he pleased, Sanājjāta did not neglect the sacred duties of a Brahmin. Each evening, he performed the twilight worship, and only after completing these rites would he go in search of wealth. By the power of his learning, he acquired much wealth, which he gave away generously. Each morning, he would rise and, in accordance with tradition, go to the Ganges for his ablutions. He meticulously observed all acts of purity, bathing, and the rituals prescribed for dawn and dusk. Only after fulfilling these duties and bowing to the Brahmins would he return to his own affairs. Now, in the morning, a deformed man afflicted with leprosy—his limbs slack, oozing pus and blood—would be seen going to the Gautamī river. But after bathing in the sacred Gautamī Ganga, he would return transformed, bearing a handsome and radiant form, glowing like the sun or fire itself. Yet, this twice-born man did not recognize either of these forms as his own. In that holy place, where the sage Gālava, steadfast in austerity and knowledge, resided, many Brahmins would take refuge, coming daily to that sacred ground. After bowing to Gālava, Sanājjāta would return to his dwelling, and the body he possessed before serving the Ganga—his birth form—would be restored to him. After his evening bath and rites, once again both forms—the deformed and the radiant—would appear to him. Gālava, observing this, was filled with wonder and pondered the cause of this extraordinary phenomenon. Astonished, he approached Sanājjāta and, as the Brahmin was about to depart, Gālava bowed to him and, moved by compassion and curiosity, invited him to his home. With gentle care, the wise teacher asked, “Who are you? Where are you going? What do you do? Where do you eat and sleep? What is your name? Who is your wife? Tell me everything.” Hearing these words, Sanājjāta replied, “Tomorrow I will tell you everything, once I have determined what must be done.” That night, after speaking with Gālava, Sanājjāta returned home. He ate well with the courtesan and, as they lay together, he recalled Gālava’s words and, troubled, spoke to her with concern. “You are virtuous, and though a courtesan, you are faithful to your husband. May our mutual affection continue as long as we live. Yet, I wish to ask you something: What is your name? What is your family? Where is your home? Who are your relatives? Tell me everything.” She replied, “I am known as Dhritavrata, a Brahmin, consecrated and pure. My wife is Mahī, and my son is in Gālava’s hermitage. My intelligent son, abandoned as a child, is known as Sanājjāta. But I, due to a former fault, having abandoned the family dharma, now live here as a courtesan by my own will—know me as a Brahmin woman, O twice-born.” Hearing her words, Sanājjāta was struck to the core and suddenly collapsed to the ground. The courtesan, alarmed, asked, “What has happened, O best of twice-born? Where has your affection gone? What have I said to distress your heart?” Regaining his composure, Sanājjāta replied, “My father is the sage Dhritavrata, and I am his son from the beginning. My mother is this earth, who has come to me by divine will.” When she heard this, the woman was overwhelmed with sorrow. After they both grieved, at dawn, beneath the clear sun, Sanājjāta went to Gālava, the tiger among sages, and told him everything: “O Brahman, Dhṛtavrata’s son, whom you once protected and initiated, and this earth, my mother, O Lord, were both given into your care. What should I do? By what means can I be freed from my guilt?” Gālava listened and replied, “Do not grieve. I have always seen your twofold form, an unprecedented sight. Now, having heard your story, I understand. Whatever needs to be done for you is accomplished in the Ganges. By the greatness of this sacred place and by the grace of the goddess, you are purified every day, my child. There is no further need for deliberation. “At dawn, I see your forms, bearing the marks of sin, day and night; yet again I see your most excellent form. Be at peace, for the holy Ganga and this sacred place have granted you purification.” Thus ends the story, wondrous in its unfolding, of Sanājjāta, his mother Mahī, and the compassionate sage Gālava.