In a moment of profound upheaval, all the gods were struck unconscious, collapsing like lifeless painted dolls. The earth itself was awash in water, empty of the beloved presence of Rādhā and Hari. Amidst this desolation, the Creator, Brahmā, entered deep meditation, seeking to understand the desires that stirred beneath the surface of events. Through his contemplation, Brahmā perceived the will at play, and together with all the other celestial beings, he offered praises to the Supreme Lord. Then, suddenly, a bodiless voice resonated in their midst, filling the air with divine authority. The voice proclaimed, “I am the Self of all; I am this power, the embodiment of grace for devotees. All the Manus, all humans, and the sages devoted to Viṣṇu—if you, O lords of the gods, wish to behold my form, then you, Brahmā, creator and teacher of the world, must give the command.” The voice continued, instructing Brahmā to create a collection of mantras, armor, and hymns—unprecedented in their power and able to grant all desired fruits. These sacred formulas, it said, must be guarded diligently, for among thousands and hundreds, only one would become a worshipper of this mantra; all others would find their place as residents of Goloka. The people of each creation, endowed with their own creators, would dwell in various realms—some below, some in Brahmaloka. To fulfill these instructions, Mahādeva, Lord Śiva, was tasked to accomplish this in the assembly of the gods. With these words, Sanātana—the eternal—ceased speaking, his voice lingering in the sky. Brahmā, the lord of knowledge and best among the wise, listened intently. With the help of Viṣṇu’s Māyā and other divine powers, he composed the supreme scripture of mantras and sacred teachings. It was said that if a person, touching the water of the Gaṅgā, spoke falsely, the truth would be revealed. As Śaṅkara spoke in Goloka amidst the assembly of gods, those present rejoiced upon seeing him and praised the Supreme Person. In time, the blessed Śambhu—another name for Śiva—composed a treatise on divine weapons. The Gaṅgā, who had arisen from Goloka, was then in her liquid form, and in various places, she was established by Kṛṣṇa, the Supreme Soul. Nārada, ever curious, asked, “Where did that most fortunate one go? Please explain this to me.” Nārāyaṇa replied, “When the curse ended, she returned again to Vaikuṇṭha, the abode of Hari. Leaving Bhāratī in Bhārata, she went to her Lord’s abode. Gaṅgā, Sarasvatī, and Lakṣmī—these three are most beloved to Hari.” Nārada pressed further, “She was in the water-pot of Brahmā and on the head of Śaṅkara. How did Gaṅgā, dear to Nārāyaṇa, become so?” Nārāyaṇa explained that formerly, in Goloka, Gaṅgā existed in a liquid form. She, the presiding deity of liquids, is unmatched in her beauty and form upon earth. Her face is like a lotus at midday in autumn—smiling, radiant, and exceedingly beautiful. Her gentle glow is lustrous, embodying pure existence. Her breasts are full, high, firm, and perfectly rounded. Her abundant, wavy hair is adorned with garlands of jasmine, and her charming cheeks are marked with musk spots. Her shining teeth are like ripe pomegranate seeds. With bashful longing, she rose to Kṛṣṇa’s side, desiring his presence and favor. Thus, the story unfolds, revealing the divine drama, the beauty of Gaṅgā, and the sacred interplay of the gods in the realms above and below.