Once, after summoning the keeper of his horse and carefully inspecting the animal, the king dismissed his assembly and retired to his inner chambers. In the royal arena, he was often questioned, and his body bore the marks of many sword wounds—each scar a testament to his courage. One day, eager for adventure, the king mounted his horse and rode out into the forest, his heart filled with curiosity and excitement. He left his soldiers behind, who scattered in pursuit, but the king was drawn after a swift deer and soon found himself overwhelmed by thirst. Searching for water for his horse, the king crossed over a rocky path, tied his horse to a tree branch, and climbed onto a large rock. There, he noticed a fragment of a leaf, upon which a half-verse from the fifteenth chapter of the Gītā was written—carried there by the wind and lying alone. As he read the sacred words and listened to the string of the Gītā’s teachings, a wondrous event occurred: in that very moment, the king’s horse attained liberation and swiftly collapsed. The king untied the knot and lowered the horse to the ground, but despite his efforts to revive it, the horse did not rise—it had passed away. Then, a celestial being named Sarabhabheruṇḍa appeared, addressing the king in a sweet voice. Boarding a divine chariot, Sarabhabheruṇḍa ascended to the abode of the gods. Continuing his journey, the king climbed the mountain and discovered a splendid hermitage, surrounded by punnāga, banana, mango, and coconut trees. The area was further beautified by vineyards, sugarcane groves, betel, nāga, kesara, and campaka trees. Young elephants and deer played joyfully, and peacocks danced in flocks. Approaching the hut, the king bowed reverently to the twice-born sage dwelling within. Now freed from worldly desires, he asked with deep devotion, “Tell me, by what cause did my horse ascend to heaven?” Hearing this, the sage replied, “After a long time, due to a past sin, the horse was born in such a form. But somewhere, a half-verse from the fifteenth chapter of the Gītā had been written. When you read and heard it, your horse ascended to heaven, surrounded by his attendants.” The king, his hair standing on end, bowed to the sage and departed, carrying with him the leaf inscribed with the sacred Gītā verse. His eyes blossoming with joy, he recited the verse, and together with his ministers and priests, he anointed his own son as king. Having placed his lion-like son upon the throne, the pure-minded king himself attained liberation. Thus concludes the one hundred and eighty-ninth chapter of the glorious Padma Mahāpurāṇa, in the Uttarakhaṇḍa, within the section on the greatness of the Gītā. Some time later, Śivaśarman narrated: Viṣṇuśarman, the merchant, together with his wife Śarabha, gathered the materials for worship and went to the shrine of Śrī Caṇḍikā. There, according to prescribed rites, they bathed and worshipped Candika with flowers, incense, and lamps, motivated by their longing for a son and with heartfelt devotion. For seven days, Ambika was worshipped with unwavering faith, and at last, the goddess spoke directly to them, her mind clear. Parvati said, “O merchant, I am pleased by your firm devotion. I will grant you the son for whom you have made such effort. Go without delay to the forest of Indra and Khāṇḍava, where lies the supreme holy place called Indraprastha. There, at the holy site created by Bṛhaspati, bathing will fulfill all desires. Bathe there with the wish for a son. Even I, after bathing there, obtained Skanda, the destroyer of the gods’ enemies.” Śivaśarman continued: Hearing the goddess’s words, my father, together with his wife, traveled to that holy place and bathed there, desiring a son. He gifted a hundred cows, each equipped with utensils, to the twice-born, and wisely satisfied the gods and ancestors according to proper rites. After staying for seven nights, the devoted couple returned home, their faces blooming with joy from the fulfillment of their wish. In that very year, my mother conceived, and after nine months, I was born in the auspicious tenth month. What Viṣṇuśarman has told you, I have recounted as it happened before; I heard all this from my father’s mouth twenty years ago. Once, seeing me capable in household duties, my father entrusted me with the house, having attained detachment from worldly affairs. He, righteous and devoted to Govinda, spoke to me, condemning attachment to sense objects and repeatedly praising devotion to Viṣṇu. My father said, “O wise one, I have reached old age; my hair is gray. I will serve the lotus feet of Govinda, which are served by the virtuous. By such service, one’s mind becomes pure and steady; such a person, content in himself, desires nothing. Without desire, experiencing happiness and sorrow, enjoying both good and bad deeds, and at their end, abandoning the body, he becomes unborn. As long as one attains material wealth and pleasure, not the bliss of consciousness, when that is attained, all else becomes insignificant—like buttermilk compared to nectar. This power of Hari’s māyā deludes the embodied; he does not recognize what is truly beneficial, just as a drunkard does not. The Lord enacts engagement and withdrawal, knowledge and ignorance, at will and in due time; for that Lord plays as a child does. When one performs the action prescribed by the Veda, desiring its fruit, that is called supreme engagement, O dear one, and its offering is to the Lord.” Thus, the stories of devotion, liberation, and the greatness of sacred places and teachings flow together, illuminating the path for all who listen.