When the true meaning of the Purāṇas, Smṛtis, Vedas, and Dharmaśāstras is discerned, the desire to become the creator of worlds arises; such a form will be attained by the seeker. In times when unrighteousness prevails and the Vedas wane, these individuals will gradually reach the status of Prajāpati. Whenever the Vedas are endangered, future Vyāsas will emerge among them—each time dharma declines or the Vedas are seen to diminish. At such moments, these Vyāsas will act for the welfare of all beings. The supreme bank of the Gaṅgā is the sacred place of their austerities. There, Śiva, Viṣṇu, Brahmā, Āditya, Agni, and Water—all divine manifestations—are ever-present in every form. Nothing purifies more than these, nor is there anything greater anywhere; in attaining those forms, one reaches the supreme Brahman. Śiva, the all-pervading one and the very essence of all beings, especially abides at that holy place out of compassion for all creatures. Attended by all the gods, he bestows his grace there. Those who come to that place are known as Dharma-Vyāsas and Veda-Vyāsas. That sacred site is renowned throughout the three worlds by that very name; its waters wash away the mire of sin, dispel the darkness of delusion and pride, and bestow every attainment upon the people. This is the unsurpassed Vyasa Tirtha. There is also a holy place called Vañjarāsaṃgama, famed throughout the three worlds, continually revered by sages, perfected beings, and royal seers. It was here that Garuḍa, the mighty king of birds, once became a servant to the serpents. Burdened in his heart by the sorrow of serving his mother, he often withdrew in solitude, sighing deeply. Garuḍa reflected, “Truly blessed are those in this world who have performed meritorious deeds. Only those are fortunate who have never known servitude or subjugation. They live happily, singing, sleeping, and laughing—blessed are the self-reliant. But shame, shame upon those who remain under another’s control.” Overwhelmed by such thoughts, the great-minded Vainateya, sorrowful, approached his mother and questioned her, “Mother, by whose fault—yours, my father’s, or mine—have you become a servant? Tell me the reason, for I wish to know.” His mother, the beloved younger brother of Aruṇa, replied, “There is no fault of anyone else; I must confess my own error. She whose word is overturned becomes a servant—this is the truth. I, along with Kadrū, entered into a wager. Through her deceit, I was defeated, and so Kadrū became my mistress. Fate, my son, is powerful—what does it not bring about? Thus I became a servant to Kadrū, O son of Kaśyapa; and when I became a servant, you too became a servant, O twice-born one.” Hearing this, Garuḍa was deeply distressed. He remained silent, pondering the workings of destiny. One day, Kadrū, wishing for the welfare of her sons and her own prosperity, spoke to Vinatā, the mother of Garuḍa: “Your son soars unhindered to salute the sun; indeed, in all three worlds you are blessed, even though you are a servant.” Vinatā, concealing her own sorrow and greatly astonished, replied, “But why do your sons not go to see the sun?” Kadrū answered, “O fortunate one, take my sons to the abode of the serpents; near the ocean there is a cool lake where they dwell.” Thus, Suparṇa carried the serpents, as well as Kadrū and Vinatā. After this, Kadrū, delighted, spoke to the mother of Vainateya. Garuḍa, the leader of the birds, was addressed again by the mother of the serpents, who spoke with humility: “My sons wish to see the swan, the guru of the three worlds. After offering their respects, they will then proceed to the sun, which is my abode. Please, each day, lead my sons to the solar sphere.” Vinatā, trembling and distressed, replied, “I am not able, O mother of serpents; my son will not lead your children. After seeing the sun god, let them return again.” Vinatā then spoke to her own son, the lord of the birds: “The serpents wish to offer their respects, having attained mastery. The mother of serpents said to me, ‘Lead us to the radiant one.’” Garuḍa, consenting, allowed the serpents to climb onto him. Then the multitude of serpents mounted Garuḍa, lord of birds, and slowly approached the place where the sun god dwelled. Scorched by the intense heat of the sun, the serpents trembled. They cried, “Turn back, O wise one; salutations to the sun-bird! Enough of the sun’s abode; we are burned by the sun’s radiance. Let us depart with you, Garuḍa, or leave you and go ourselves.” Thus addressed by the serpents, Garuḍa replied, “I will show you the sun.” With that, he swiftly soared through the sky, facing the sun. Their bodies burning, the serpents fell upon the island of reeds—many, hundreds of thousands, afflicted and scorched. Hearing the anguished cries of her sons fallen to the earth, Kadrū, greatly distressed, came to comfort them. She spoke to Vinatā, “Your son has committed a great wrong, acting with excessive malice, for which there is no peace. There is no other way to act; the lord of serpents must follow the master’s command. If the great sage Kāśyapa, full of splendor, were here, there would be no harm. How, then, can there be peace for my sons, O beautiful one?” Hearing these words, Vinatā became extremely fearful.