Padma Purana

O best of kings, listen to the wondrous glory of bathing at the sacred Veṇī during the auspicious month of Māgha. Each day that one bathes in these holy waters, the merit earned is said to equal the immense virtue of giving a thousand loads of gold at Kurukṣetra, and that too during the rare event of a solar eclipse. The undiminished fruit of a thousand Rājasūya sacrifices, so difficult to obtain, is surely granted to those who bathe in the white and dark waters at this sacred time. Know, O king, that during Māgha, all the holy places of the earth and the seven sacred cities themselves converge at the Veṇī to bathe. Yet, because these waters mingle with the touch of sinners, they become darkened; but at Prayāga, when one bathes during Māgha, these very waters shine forth again, pure and bright. For those who enter these waters—regardless of their own complexion, fair or dark—the sins gathered over countless births and ages are reduced to ashes. Indeed, the sins committed by speech, mind, or body are utterly destroyed for one who bathes for three days at Prayāga during Māgha. Such a person, casting aside all sin, ascends to heaven as effortlessly as a serpent sheds its old skin. Wherever the Gaṅgā is entered, she is as sanctifying as Kurukṣetra, but where she meets the Vindhya mountains, her holiness is said to increase tenfold. At Kāśī, where the Gaṅgā flows northward, the merit is a hundred times greater, and at the confluence of the Gaṅgā and Yamunā, Kāśī itself is said to be a hundred times more powerful still. Yet, above all, the westward-flowing Gaṅgā is a thousand times more potent, for by her very sight, the gravest of sins—including the sin of killing a Brāhmaṇa—are washed away. Where the westward Gaṅgā joins with the Kāliṃdī, she destroys ten million sins, though such a meeting in Māgha is exceedingly rare. That which is called nectar on earth, O king, is celebrated as the Veṇī. Even a moment spent there in Māgha is difficult to attain, even for the gods themselves. At that time, Brahmā, Viṣṇu, Mahādeva, Rudra, the Ādityas, the Maruts, Gandharvas, guardians of the worlds, Yakṣas, Kinnaras, and serpents, all assemble there. The Siddhas, endowed with wondrous powers, and the teachers of truth come as well. All the goddesses—Brahmāṇī, Pārvatī, Lakṣmī, Śacī, Menā, Aditi, Diti—and the wives of the gods, the serpent maidens, and the celebrated Apsarases such as Ghṛtācī, Menakā, Rambhā, Urvaśī, and Tilottamā, along with the hosts of Apsarases and the ancestors, all come to bathe at the Veṇī in Māgha. In the Kṛta age, they come in their true forms, but in Kali, they come concealed. The fruit of bathing for three days at Prayāga in Māgha cannot be obtained even by a thousand horse sacrifices. This very fruit, in times past, was given by the Apsaras Kāñcanamālinī to a Rākṣasa, and thus that sinner was freed from his bonds. At this, Kārtavīrya asked: “O lord, who was that Rākṣasa, and who was Kāñcanamālinī? How did she bestow this merit, and how did he attain such a blessed state? Please tell me this wondrous tale, O sun of the line of Atri, if you deem it worthy to be heard, for I am eager to learn.” Dattatreya replied: “Listen, O king, to an ancient and marvelous story, the mere remembrance of which bestows the fruit of a Vājapeya sacrifice. There was an Apsaras of surpassing beauty named Kāñcanamālinī. In the month of Māgha, she bathed at Prayāga and then journeyed to the abode of Lord Hara. As she moved through a grove on the king of mountains, an aged Rākṣasa—who had assumed the form of a mountain—saw her ascending the sky. She shone with a golden radiance, her hips graceful, her eyes large and luminous, her face as lovely as the moon, her hair beautiful, and her breasts full and high. Struck by her beauty, the Rākṣasa spoke: ‘Who are you, O lotus-eyed one? From where have you come? Why are your garments wet and your hair damp? How do you move through the sky, O gentle one? By what merit do you possess such a radiant and enchanting form? O bright-eyed one, even as drops from your garment fell upon my head, my mind—so long steeped in cruelty—became peaceful in an instant. What is the greatness of this tasteless water? Please explain, for you appear virtuous, and such form does not arise without virtue.’ The Apsaras replied: ‘Listen, O Rākṣasa. I am an Apsaras, able to assume forms at will. My name is Kāñcanamālinī, and I have come from Prayāga. My girdle is wet because I have just bathed in the pure white and black waters. Now I must go to the supreme mountain, Kailāsa, where the Lord of Pārvatī, worshipped by gods and asuras alike, resides. By the power of the water from my braid, your cruelty has vanished. Let me tell you by what merit I was born a maiden of divine form to the Gandharva named Sumedhas. In a previous birth, I was a courtesan in the city of the king of Kaliṅga, endowed with beauty and charm, yet I was never proud of my good fortune. Among all the young women of that city, I was the foremost jewel, enjoying pleasures as I wished. By the power of my youth, I enchanted the entire city, acquiring various jewels, ornaments, and wealth. I obtained all manner of beautiful garments, camphor, aloe, and sandalwood—everything gained through my allure. O night-wanderer, I do not know the limit of gold in my own house; young men, tormented by desire, served at my feet. By my illusion, I deceived them all, taking everything from them; some died in rivalry, others were overcome by longing. Thus, in that beautiful city, all my desires were fulfilled. But when old age arrived, my heart was filled with sorrow, for I had not given, nor sacrificed, nor recited, nor observed any vow.