O best of sages, listen as I recount the wondrous story of Gaṅgā, most beloved to Nārāyaṇa. In times long past, within the supreme realm of Goloka, Gaṅgā herself existed in a liquid form, presiding as the unrivaled deity of all that is fluid. Her beauty was beyond compare on earth or in heaven. Her face shone like a lotus in full bloom at midday in the clear light of autumn, radiant with a gentle smile and surpassing loveliness. Her luster was soft yet dazzling, embodying the purest essence of existence. Her form was adorned with full, high, and perfectly rounded breasts, and her abundant, wavy hair was crowned with garlands of fragrant jasmine. Delicate musk spots graced her charming cheeks, while her shining rows of teeth sparkled like ripe pomegranate seeds. Moved by desire, Gaṅgā rose bashfully and approached the side of Kṛṣṇa. In her ecstasy, she was rendered unconscious, her form aglow with the marks of divine rapture. She was attended by thirty million gopīs, and together their brilliance rivaled the light of millions of moons. Gaṅgā’s own radiance was like the white campaka flower, and she moved with the stately grace of a proud elephant. Around her neck glittered a priceless necklace set with rubies, burning with the purity of fire. Her feet, soft and radiant as lotus blossoms, delighted even the gods. She descended from a celestial palace studded with the king of jewels, bearing a musk tilaka adorned with sandalwood and moon-like marks in the center of her forehead, shining brightly beneath her hairline. Her beautiful, abundant hair trembled, and so did she, as she approached the splendid jewel throne where Krishna sat. There, Gaṅgā stood beside Krishna. Seeing her, Krishna—the infallible Lord—rose in respect. The gopas, overcome with awe and fear, bowed low, their necks humbly bent. Gaṅgā, gathering herself, quickly rose and began to speak, though she stood in humility, trembling, her throat, lips, and palate dry with nervousness. Krishna, seated upon the lotus throne, offered her reassurance and granted her fearlessness. Then Gaṅgā’s gaze fell upon Radha, enthroned above all. She beheld the primal source, the eternal origin of creation, the one who is the mother of all and the root of countless Brahmas. Radha was unmatched in all the universe, both in form and in virtue—auspicious, fortunate Subhadra, ever blessed by the good fortune of her Lord. She was half of Krishna’s very being, equal to him in youth, brilliance, and radiance. Her splendor outshone the entire assembly of the Lord, making it supremely luminous. Unborn and honored, she was full of self-respect and revered by all. At that moment, Radha spoke to the Lord of the universe. She said, “Always you look at me by your side, full of desire, your eyes reddened with passion. She too faints from beauty, her body marked with goosebumps. And you, again and again, gaze at me with longing, smiling. You alone, O playful one, commit such improper acts. Take this beloved of yours and leave Goloka, O libertine! I saw you with Viraja in the sandalwood forest. And once, by merely hearing my name from you, Viraja vanished.” Thus unfolded the sacred encounter of Gaṅgā, Krishna, and Radha in the highest realm.