Following the divine instruction, you are to anoint your wife with water sanctified by sacred mantras, using pitchers and proper offerings. When this is done, your beloved wife will blossom in beauty—her limbs graceful, her eyes enchanting, and she will be adorned with every auspicious mark, attaining a most delightful form. In turn, when your wife anoints you, you too will become handsome, radiant with all auspicious signs. Hearing these words from Gaṅgā, the couple replied, “So be it,” and performed the rites as instructed. By the grace of the river goddess Gautamī, both husband and wife were transformed, their beauty enhanced and their forms radiant. The water used in their consecration flowed forth to become a river, known among sages as Vṛddhā, named after the blessed woman. Gautama himself came to be called Vṛddhagautama, and the river Vṛddhā addressed Gautamī, Gaṅgā made manifest before them. She prayed, “O goddess, let this river bear my name—Vṛddhā—and may your confluence with her be the most excellent of sacred fords.” She declared that those who come there would find their beauty, fortune, progeny, long life, health, welfare, victory, and love increased; and that bathing, giving, and performing rites at this confluence would greatly purify one’s ancestors. Gaṅgā consented, saying, “So be it,” to the venerable and beloved wife of Gautama. The liṅga established by Gautama at that place became renowned as Vṛddhā. There, the sage found great joy with his aged wife, and it was said that bathing and giving at this holy place would grant all that the heart desires. From then on, this sacred site was known as Vṛddhāsaṃgama. Nearby, there was another holy ford called Ilā Tīrtha, famed for granting all accomplishments, purifying even the gravest sins, and fulfilling every wish. In the lineage of Vaivasvata, a king named Ila was born. With his formidable army, King Ila once ventured into the hunting forests. He wandered through dense woods alive with wild beasts and birds, the trees clustered in radiant beauty. Intent on the hunt, King Ila spoke to his ministers: “All of you return to the city, which my son now governs. Protect the land, the treasury, the army, and the kingdom, and watch over my son. Let Vasiṣṭha also depart, taking the sacred fires as our father would have done. I shall remain in the forest with my wives. Let those who delight in the pleasures of the forest—be they horses, elephants, men, or hunters—return to the city.” His ministers agreed and departed. Ila himself made his way slowly to the jeweled slopes of Mount Himavat, where he took up residence. There he discovered a cave adorned with precious gems. Within dwelled a Yakṣa lord named Samanyu, renowned in those parts, along with his devoted wife, Samānā. The wise Yakṣa, with his wife, would at times take the form of deer, delighting in the forest with dance and song. Though the Yakṣa was aware of his own transformations, King Ila did not know that the cave was guarded by these supernatural beings. The Yakṣa’s house, spacious and gleaming with jewels, became the seat where Ila and his army settled. The Yakṣa, angered by this unrighteous intrusion, pondered what to do: “I cannot defeat Ila, nor does he yield when asked. My house has been taken—how should I respond?” Considering the matter, he thought, “How could I vanquish this intoxicated king in battle?” He sent forth his own bold, bow-armed Yakṣas with orders: “Defeat King Ila, fierce as a maddened elephant, and drive him out from my home.” Obeying their lord, the Yakṣas confronted Ila, demanding, “Come out from this cave! If you do not flee, defeated in battle, where will you go?” Enraged by their challenge, King Ila engaged them in fierce combat. Having conquered the Yakṣas of many kinds, Ila remained in the cave for ten nights, while the Yakṣa lord, taking the form of a deer, retreated to the forest with his wife. Deprived of his home and servants, the Yakṣa entered the woods and spoke to his beloved Yakshini, now a doe: “This king is troubled, his mind weighed down by misfortune. How has he come to such calamity? We must find a remedy. All the kingdoms of earth’s rulers end in sorrow and ruin. Let us go to the forest, and you, my fair-browed one, become a charming doe. There, the king will surely enter, and a woman will arise. You must do this, for it does not befit me. I am a man, and you are once again a woman, a Yakshini. Why not go to the sacred forest of Uma? Even if you go, what harm is there? Tell me the truth of this.” On the great mountain Himavat, Shiva wandered at ease with Uma, accompanied by gods and attendants. One day, Parvati spoke privately to Shankara: “It is in the nature of women that pleasure must be guarded. Therefore, by your command, let my place be protected. Grant me, O lord of the gods, the forest of Uma, as I have heard, with none but myself—without you, Ganesha, Karttikeya, or Nandi. Let it be decreed: whoever enters here, O lord, shall become a woman.” Thus, the stage was set for wonders and transformations at the sacred confluence and in the enchanted forest of Uma.