Along the sacred banks of the Gautami River, the offering made to one’s ancestors is considered the most auspicious, especially at the Hundred Million Ford. This holy spot is renowned for granting infinite spiritual merit. The sages speak of forty-nine fords here, each nearly complete, but the Hundred Million Ford stands above them all. Now, let us turn to the Narasimha tirtha, situated on the northern bank of the Ganga. Its influence is profound, bestowing protection upon all who come. In ancient times, Hiranyakashipu, the mightiest among the powerful, ruled with such strength and austerity that even the gods could not conquer him. However, his heart was poisoned by hatred for his own son, a devoted worshipper of Hari. Then, in a moment of divine manifestation, Narasimha emerged from a pillar in the assembly, revealing his all-pervading nature. Narasimha slew Hiranyakashipu and scattered his formidable army. One by one, he defeated all the great demons in battle. Having conquered the enemies who dwelled in the netherworld, Narasimha ascended to the realm of the gods, and, victorious there, descended to the earth to vanquish the demons hiding in the mountains. In his fearsome beast form, the Lord destroyed those demons lurking in the ocean, rivers, villages, and forests—those who took on countless shapes. With claws sharper than thunderbolts and a mane bristling in fury, Narasimha struck down beings who moved through the sky, those abiding in the wind, and those who had entered the realm of light. His mighty roars echoed like the fire of dissolution, conquering all rakshasas and shaking the very wombs of demon mothers. With powerful slaps and furious movements, he crushed the asuras. Having destroyed many kinds of demons, Hari made his way to the Gautami. There, the enemy of the lord of Dandaka, a renowned being named Ambarya, arose from the lotus of his own feet, delighting minds and eyes alike. This warrior was unconquerable even by the gods, surrounded by great strength. Because of him, a fierce and terrifying battle erupted, hair-raising in its intensity. Weapons and missiles flew as Hari fought the demon’s son, and the glorious Hari slew his enemy on the northern bank. On the Ganga, the Narasimha tirtha shines, famed throughout the three worlds. Bathing, giving, and performing rites here destroy all sins and afflictions. It grants universal protection, wards off old age and death, and, just as among all the gods none equals Hari, so among all tirthas, Narasimha tirtha is supreme. After bathing there, one should worship Narahari. Whether in heaven, on earth, or below, nothing is difficult for Narasimha. O sage Narada, there are eight great tirthas here; wise men say each yields the merit of a crore of tirthas. Even if remembered without faith, its name alone destroys all sins. Wherever Narasimha is ever present, who can describe the fruit born of service to that tirtha? Just as nowhere is any god greater than Narahari, so nowhere is any tirtha equal to Narasimha tirtha. Nearby, on the northern bank of the Ganga, lies the Piśāca tirtha. It is named for its association with piśācas, and once, a brahmin attained liberation there. In the world, the son of Suyavasya was known as Jīgarti. Burdened by the hardships of family and afflicted by famine, he committed a grievous act: he sold his middle son, Śunaḥśepa, the best among those knowing Brahman, to a kshatriya for slaughter, in exchange for wealth. What sin will one not commit when plunged into calamity, even if learned? The sage accepted much wealth, seeking to pacify his troubles. This lowest of Brahmins took wealth for division, and as a result, he was afflicted by incurable, severe diseases. When he died, he was cast into hell; except for the enjoyment of the results, there is no end to the sins committed previously. By the command of Yama and his servants, Jīgarti passed through many different wombs and eventually became a dreadful piśāca, terrible in form. He was cast by Yama’s servants among dry woods, in desolate forests, without water, and under the scorching summer sun. Those who sell daughters, sons, land, horses, or cows do not return from hell until the dissolution of the world. Tormented by Yama’s fierce servants, he suffered immensely, loudly weeping and remembering his past deeds. One day, as he was walking along the road, Śunaḥśepa, Jīgarti’s middle son, repeatedly heard the sorrowful voice of the piśāca weeping. At that time, the sin of selling a son, of killing a Brahmin, and of Jīgarti the father weighed heavily. Śunaḥśepa asked, “Who are you, so greatly afflicted?” Jīgarti replied in his misery, “I am Śunaḥśepa’s father.” He confessed, “Having performed a most sinful act, I have attained this dreadful birth. Cooked in hell, I have reached an intermediate state. Such is the fate of all who commit evil deeds.” Śunaḥśepa said to his father, “O father, it is by my own fault that, having sold me, you have reached hell. Therefore, I will now make you attain heaven.” Resolving thus, the son of Gādhi, a foremost sage, desiring to attain the highest worlds for his father, set out, meditating upon the Ganges. For embodied beings scorched by endless suffering and sinking in the great ocean of delusion, there is no other support in the three worlds except the feet of Viṣṇu. With this conviction, the great-souled sage, wishing to rescue his father, quickly went to the Gautamī, bathed there, and remembered Śambhu and Viṣṇu. He offered water to his father, who was in the form of a preta, a piśāca, and greatly distressed. By that very act of offering, Jīgarti was instantly purified and attained a most auspicious form. Endowed with a celestial vehicle and attended by hosts of gods, he attained the abode of Viṣṇu by the power of his son, the sanctity of the Ganges, and the grace of Hari, Śambhu, and the Creator, shining with the brilliance of ten thousand suns.