In the course of his journey, the king came upon the foremost queen of the ocean—a river of such splendor that she was served by hosts of great sages and enchanted all the worlds, stirring curiosity wherever her waters flowed. Beneficial to all beings, she granted the path to heaven. Along her banks, herds of cows gathered, and the shores were lovely, free from Shaivala grass. The river resounded with the calls of swans and cranes, adorned with water flowers, and deep with swirling eddies. Her banks were broad, reminiscent of the ample hips of an island. The river’s beauty was extraordinary: eyes like blue water, faces like blooming lotuses, clothed in snowy foam, and bearing Chakravaka birds. Cranes lined her shores, and the movement of fish beneath the surface formed arched brows, adding to her allure. Her waters were graced with breasts like the swelling temples of elephants born from her own depths, and the air was filled with the jingling of swan anklets. She was adorned with garlands made from lotus-stalk bangles. There, hosts of Apsarases, intoxicated by their own beauty, played at midday, accompanied by Gandharvas, filling the place with celestial joy. The river carried away pure saffron washed from the bodies of Apsarases, and her waters were fragrant with the diverse scents of flowers growing along her banks. The surface, crowded with waves, made it difficult to glimpse the sun’s disk, and was adorned with the tumult of festive gatherings by the gods. Her waters mingled with sandal paste from the breasts of divine women and with water from Indra’s cheeks, attracting bees who served her. On her banks, trees grew adorned with fragrant blossoms, and the air was alive with the restless buzzing of bees, disturbed and excited by the scents and sights. Along her shore, animals, ascetics from forest hermitages, and even gods with Apsarases, compelled by desire, found delight. Women of pure bodies, honored even by the gods, and celestial maidens with faces like lotuses and the moon, were found in abundance. She always bore water, pressed by hosts of gods, Pulindas, groups of kings, and bands of tigers. Her water, fit for the drinking of gods and pure as the star-filled sky, was beheld by the king—she who grants the wishes of the virtuous. Her banks shone with tall kāśa grass, full and bright as moonbeams, and with great trees of many forms. Her lovely shore was always frequented by sages and gods. She swiftly destroyed all troubles of her devoted people, followed by flocks of rivers and constantly by great sages. She protected humans as if they were her own children, always joined by bands of snow, accompanied by hosts of gods, and sought by people for their welfare. Enjoyed by groups of lions and elephants, her waters were full of offspring, adorned with gold, cooled and warmed by the sun’s rays, and her fame equaled that of the moon, as seen by the king. Beholding this sacred river, the king felt his fatigue swept away by its gentle breeze. Continuing on, he saw the great mountain Himavat. Its many pale peaks seemed to scratch the sky, so high and inaccessible that even birds could not move freely, and the auspicious paths of the Siddhas were absent. All around, the great sound of river currents filled the air, drowning out all other sounds in that cool and delightful place. The king saw the mountain clothed in blue, with forests of celestial deodar trees, its slopes washed clean, and draped with clouds like an upper garment. In some places, it bore a white cloud as a turban, elsewhere the sun and moon as its crown; parts of its body were smeared with snow, while other areas were streaked with minerals. Some surfaces were anointed with sandalwood, as if a five-fingered hand had applied it, giving coolness even in the heat. The steep, rocky paths bore the imprints of the red-lacquered feet of Apsarases. In some places, the mountain was touched by the sun’s rays; in others, it was shrouded in darkness. Fierce mountain streams with gaping mouths seemed to drink up great quantities of water. Certain slopes were adorned by groups of Vidyādharas playing, and elsewhere, the chief bands of Kinnaras sang. The slopes were beautified by fallen divine flowers of Gandharvas and Apsarases, especially those from celestial trees like the Santānaka. The lovely beds of Gandharvas, where they had just risen or where flowers had been crushed, were scattered all around. In regions where the wind was stilled, the ground was adorned with dark green grass, and elsewhere, it was splendidly beautiful, covered with flowers. The mountain was a refuge for ascetics, exceedingly difficult for lovers to attain, traversed by wild animals, and with great trees broken by elephants. The terrifying roar of lions frightened other creatures, and herds of elephants, restless yet never weary, roamed the slopes. Ascetics and herds of elephants adorned the slopes, and the jewels that arose from the mountain adorned all three worlds. It was always a refuge for the Nāgas, constantly attended by Nāga people, who saw the mountain, rich in jewels, as Nāga-like itself. Here, ascetics attained success with little austerity, and the mere sight of the mountain destroyed all sins. In some places, the land was always satisfied by water brought by the wind from great waterfalls, cascades, and streams. Some peaks, having gathered water, rose high and were so harsh with constant sun and heat that they could not be imagined by the mind. The mountain was adorned with regions where the branches of great deodar trees and other mighty trees were unbroken, and with bamboo groves standing like pillars. Its great peaks were like snowy umbrellas, with hundreds of waterfalls and streams, where water could be found by sound alone, and its caves were blocked by snow. Upon seeing that land, with its reddish slopes, the mighty lord of Madra wandered there joyfully, and after some time, he found a certain place. By divine arrangement, the king reached a most delightful region of that king of mountains, a place inaccessible to other humans.