There was a Brahmin who lived as he pleased, yet never neglected his sacred evening prayers. Each day, after performing the twilight worship prescribed for Brahmins, he would turn his attention to seeking wealth. Blessed with the power of his learning, he earned much and gave generously, never failing in his duties. Every morning, he rose early and made his way to the Ganges, following the proper rituals. All acts of purity, bathing, and the observances at dawn and dusk were performed in due order. Only after these, and after bowing respectfully to fellow Brahmins, would he proceed with his own daily tasks. One morning, a deformed man afflicted with leprosy, his limbs slack and oozing with pus and blood, made his way to the Gautamī river. But when he bathed in the Gautamī Ganga and returned, he bore a handsome, peaceful form, radiant like the sun or fire, as if he were the very embodiment of the sun itself. This twice-born man did not recognize either of these forms as his own. Nearby, the venerable Galava, devoted to austerity and knowledge, resided. There, surrounded by sages and taking refuge in the divine Gautamī, even a Brahmin who came daily to that holy place would remain there. After bowing to Galava, the Brahmin would return to his own dwelling, and his body, as it was before serving the Ganga, from birth, would be restored. After bathing and performing the evening rites, again both forms appeared to the twice-born one, and Galava always observed this. Seeing these transformations, Galava was filled with wonder and thought, “There must be some reason for this.” Astonished, Galava addressed the Brahmin as he was departing, bowing to him and inviting him to his house with care. Moved by compassion and curiosity, Galava asked, “Who are you? Where will you go? What do you do? Where will you eat? What is your name? Where is your bed? Who is your wife? Tell me everything.” Hearing Galava’s words, the Brahmin replied, “Tomorrow I will tell you everything, once I have determined what must be done.” Having spoken thus, the Brahmin went home. After eating well at night with his companion, he lay down with the courtesan, and, recalling Galava’s words, spoke to her with alarm, “You are endowed with all virtues, 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 Galava’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, live here as a courtesan by my own will—know me as a Brahmin woman, O twice-born.” Hearing her words, he was pierced to the core and suddenly fell to the ground. The courtesan then spoke, “What has happened, O best of twice-born? Where has your affection gone? And what words have I spoken that have caused distress to your heart?” Comforting himself, the Brahmin spoke, “My father, the sage Dhritavrata, and I, his son from the beginning; my mother is this earth, who has come to me by divine will.” Hearing this, she became exceedingly sorrowful. After both had grieved, at dawn, under the clear sun, the Brahmin went and reported everything to Gālava, the tiger among sages. He said, “O Brahman, Dhritavrata’s son, whom you formerly protected and initiated, and this earth, my mother, O Lord, were both given by you. What should I do, and by doing what will I be freed from my guilt?” Gālava replied, “Do not grieve. I always see your twofold form as if it were something unprecedented. Now, having been questioned, I have heard and understood your story; whatever needs to be done for you, all of it returns to completion in the Ganges. By the greatness of this sacred place and by the grace of this goddess, you are purified every day, child; there is no need for further deliberation here. At dawn, I see your forms, bearing sin, day and night; yet again I see your most excellent form. I see you always coming yoked with sin, and departing free from it; therefore, you are now purified by the goddess. Therefore, nothing remains for you to be done; this is your mother, O Brahmin, and the one known as Bandhakī. Having passed through intense remorse, she is now freed from sin; affection among beings, child, is natural. Through association with the virtuous, great merit arises, and release is granted by the divine; she was excessively repentant due to previously performed merit.” After bathing at this sacred place, both mother and son became purified. By bathing, both became free from sin, without doubt; from then on, that sacred place became known as the remover of sin. It is renowned as the destroyer of sin and as Gālava’s tirtha; whether great or small, or even secondary sins, all are destroyed here—this place cleanses sin and bestows great merit. Where Rāma, son of Daśaratha, together with Sītā, satisfied the ancestors, that place is known as the ancestral tirtha. There, by bathing, giving, and offering libations to the ancestors, all attain imperishable merit; there is no need for doubt in this matter. Where Rāma, son of Daśaratha, honored the great sage Viśvāmitra, the king among kings, together with sages who perceive the truth, that place too is sanctified. Thus, the story reveals the transformative power of holy places, the grace of the Ganga, and the purifying effect of devotion, repentance, and association with the virtuous.