There are rivers upon this earth whose very waters are famed for dissolving the bonds of karma: the Narmadā, Sarayū, and Vetravatī, as well as Tāpi, Payoṣṇī, Candrā, and Vipāśā. These sacred streams, revered since ancient times, have the power to wash away the stains of past deeds. There are others too—Puṣyā, Pūrnā, Dīpā, and Vidīpā—rivers that shine with the brilliance of the sun, their sanctity so great that the rewards gained by donating a thousand cows may be obtained from them. Yet, above them all, the Gaṅgā stands supreme. Simply beholding her, even from afar, bestows the same merit as the most generous acts of charity. She is the holiest of the holy, especially for those burdened with the gravest sins, even the slaying of a brāhmaṇa. For souls bound to hell, the Gaṅgā offers liberation; her waters dissolve sin as surely as the darkness flees before the rising sun. The very sight of her bestows the same fruit as the most auspicious acts performed during lunar or solar eclipses. By her power, sin is utterly destroyed, and she is to be honored always, pure and radiant, the destroyer of all impurity. The Gaṅgā’s form is ever auspicious, for she was created long ago by Lord Viṣṇu himself. She is the divine mother, the purifier of those afflicted by suffering. Just as Viṣṇu reigns supreme among the gods, so too is Gaṅgā foremost among rivers. Those who bathe in her waters during the sacred month of Māgha are freed from suffering for three hundred kalpas. Where the Gaṅgā meets the Yamunā and Sarasvatī, at that confluence, by bathing and drinking, one surely attains liberation—of this, there can be no doubt. In the midst of this praise, Mahādeva himself speaks with affection: “Whatever words of praise I offer are hymns to you, O Lord. Whatever I eat is your offering; wherever I go, I am sent by you. Even as I rest, may my thoughts bow at your feet. May all my actions be pleasing to you, O Viśveśvara, Lord of all.” It is said that by seeing, bowing to, touching, or holding the sacred waters, people continue to wander the world, enduring poverty, disease, death, and the misfortunes that arise from existence. Yet, the very remembrance of the Gaṅgā cuts away the mass of evil deeds and conquers countless sins, even from a hundred thousand yojanas away. When one sets out with longing and joy to behold her, that very act is accomplished in that moment, and the pilgrim is born into the ocean of heaven. Having become a goddess, the Gaṅgā is the supreme Brahman, bestower of the highest bliss. She is the embodiment of dharma, a stream of nectar flowing from the lotus feet of Viṣṇu, the enemy of Mura. She is the raft across the ocean of suffering, praised by gods and men alike, the path to the stairway of heaven. Her waters, shining with all the best qualities, remove every sin. Her waves surge forth, rescuing those sunk in the ocean of sin, and her pure brilliance dispels the darkness of impurity, sanctifying the world. “Alas, mind,” the seeker wonders, “why do you tremble? Are you afraid of hell? Fear is for those who do evil, but hear me: if, because of my sins, my rival has reached hell before me, what else remains? What dharma or wealth is left for me?” Where the praise of the Lord, the experience of joy, and the sacred bath are declared, where noble women look on delighted and even Indra, king of the gods, comes in hope—there, even the wicked attain divinity. The Vedas themselves confirm this. May right understanding arise in your heart, O friend. May you be well, your words dear to all, your virtues manifest and your form radiant, vitality yours—these blessings are desired by all. O Śrī Jāhnavī, daughter of the Sun, child of Brahmā, ornament of the three rivers, O Prayāga, best of holy places, O Lord of all—favor me, lead me upward, and destroy the tenfold inner darkness with your own radiance. The Lord of Speech, Viṣṇu, Indra, and the wise all worship the beautiful blue bank of Prayāga for the destruction of sin. Here, at this king of holy places, the Gaṅgā, born of the Himālaya, meets the celestial river flowing westward, washing away the triple afflictions of people. The dark banyan tree, adorned with its qualities, shades worshippers with its pure shadow, and the fatigue of darkness is cut away by simply seeing it. Prayāga, the king among sacred places, shines above all. Even Brahmā and other gods abandon their own forms, seeking the blessed fortune of the virtuous here. By service to this place, gods, kings, and sages daily proclaim, “Heaven and earthly sovereignty—such is the glory of Prayāga, king of sacred places.” Its fame destroys sins, its radiance purifies the eyes, and its light pervades the three worlds. All around, the confluence bears the charming brilliance of white and black chamara fans, where the rivers meet in the forest. At the sacred Triveni, the daughter of Brahmā is manifest, witnessed directly by the ritual. For some, countless births must pass before reaching this place, but those of gentle speech attain it. For seekers of the supreme, this is the highest of all years. What is gained by fortune may not always be spoken, but by destiny, the confluence and auspicious day are seen—what greater blessing than Prayāga? For those desiring heaven in the Kali age, unable to perform great sacrifices, the fruits of Agniṣṭoma, Aśvamedha, and other rites are fully obtained by praise, hymns, and words. If, through negligence or haste, the Sandhyā ritual was not properly observed, yet if one performs Sandhyā here with devotion, it is fulfilled for all births, even for me. Elsewhere, even with great asceticism and meditation, I bow to the illustrious dust of Triveni, to the peerless Prayāga, self-manifest and shining with the mark of the circle, best among immortals. What austerities have we performed, what sacrifices offered, what gifts given, what worship rendered to the gods, what service to sacred places, what Brahmin families honored? By these, the city of Śiva, the giver of auspiciousness, the royal capital itself, is always attained. By fortune, I have reached that which destroys all the sins of countless births—the wondrous city of Śiva, the ferry across the ocean of worldly existence. The good reap its fruit, the family is purified, the self made whole—what higher blessing remains? A living man beholds a hundred thousand auspicious sights; this is no falsehood. Therefore, even Kashi, for my body and sight, was not so easily attained, so fleeting is its grace. Even the immortals cannot count the sacred lingas in divine Kashi, whether ancient, hidden, or revealed. I bow to them all, joining my hands in reverence. What fear remains from the path of sin, what joy from countless good deeds, what pride from study, what sorrow from ignorance, what arrogance from wealth, what pain from poverty, what need for food—if, after bathing in the waters of Śrī Maṇikarṇikā, Lord Viśveśvara is seen. Even with little prosperity, health, or strength, with encouragement and pure love alone, though unattainable by desire or dreams, the city of Gadādhara is reached, granting immediate liberation. Neither one’s own form, nor previous attainments, nor relatives, nor any fixed measure, nor sleep or suffering—none suffice. The attainment of Gayā, Prayāga, Yamunā, and Kashi, the supreme confluence, is difficult indeed. The great fruit is won only by the favor of Śrī Śāradā.