What Viṣṇuśarman has told you, I have faithfully recounted just as it happened in days gone by; all of this I heard from my own father’s lips, twenty years ago. At that time, when my father saw that I was capable and diligent in managing household affairs, he entrusted the entire home to me, for he had reached a stage of detachment from worldly life. My father, ever righteous and devoted to Govinda, spoke to me then, condemning attachment to sense pleasures and again and again extolling the virtues of unwavering devotion to Viṣṇu. He said, “O wise one, I have reached old age; my hair is grey. Now I wish to serve the lotus feet of Govinda, those very feet that are worshipped by the virtuous. Through such service, one’s mind becomes pure and steady. A person who finds contentment within himself desires nothing from the world. Without any longing, he endures both happiness and sorrow, enjoys the fruits of good and bad deeds, and, when his time comes, abandons the body and becomes one with the unborn. As long as a person seeks only material wealth and pleasure, and not the bliss of true consciousness, he remains unfulfilled. But once the bliss of consciousness is attained, all else becomes insignificant, like buttermilk compared to nectar. Yet, it is the power of Hari’s māyā that deludes embodied beings; under its sway, they fail to recognize what is truly beneficial, just as a drunkard cannot discern what is good for him. Hari enacts both engagement and withdrawal, knowledge and ignorance, by his own will and at the proper time, for the Lord plays with the world as a child does with his toys. When one performs the actions prescribed in the Veda, desiring their fruit, this is called supreme engagement, and its offering is made to the Lord. However, just as seeds that have been burned will never sprout, no matter how much they are watered, so too, actions dedicated to the Lord of the universe, when performed without desire, bear no binding fruit. The dissolution of actions that bring pleasure and pain is liberation; their arising is bondage—such is the teaching of the scriptures. Therefore, I shall perform the actions prescribed by the Veda without longing for their results, and I will wander among the sacred places, keeping devotion to Hari firm in my heart. Thus, by enduring the consequences of actions already begun and restraining new ones, I will destroy the disease of worldly existence by drinking the medicine of good company.” Śivaśarman continued, “Having heard these words from my father, I, Viṣṇuśarman, spoke to him—listen closely to what followed. The merchant’s son said: ‘This person is difficult to please; he will not speak of my fame. Fleeing from a wicked family, he has left and gone away.’ But consider this: Here is the Gaṅgā, the river born of Viṣṇu, purifier of the three worlds. It is said that she removes sin from afar—why would you abandon her? Even a sinful person who dies in the land of Magadha, if he dies in the Gaṅgā, ascends to heaven, leaving his faults behind. Sixty thousand sons of the great Sagara, burned by the wrath of Kapila, attained heaven by her touch. This river, foremost among the celestial, bestower even of liberation, is served by seekers of release—do not go elsewhere, leaving her behind. Do not disregard the Gaṅgā, honored by the gods and near at hand. If you so desire, O fortunate one, she will grant whatever is sought by her worshippers. Even animals, lacking knowledge, if they die in her waters, become Brahman—how then can you turn away from her?” Śivaśarman said, “Hearing these words, my truth-loving father remained at home, turning away from all worldly matters. Each day, at the three sacred times, he bathed in the Gaṅgā. Wherever the Purāṇa was being recited in the house, he would always go and listen. One day, he heard of the greatness of the sacred site of the Yamunā. He learned of its glory, O son, and how, from Avimukta, Haridvāra, Prayāga, Puṣkara, Ayodhyā, Dvārakā, Kāñcī, Mathurā, and elsewhere, the merit of this place, containing the essence of all sacred waters, was said by that learned son to be a hundred times greater. Quietly, without anyone noticing, my father left home and came to this holy place. That great soul, a servant at the feet of Govinda, arrived here just as we have. Wishing for liberation, he performed the ritual bath at the Tirtha that awakens the Vedas, three times each day. He remained at this most excellent of holy places for several months. Wise and free from desire, performing his own duties in a simple dwelling, one day he was suddenly struck by a most terrible fever. Overwhelmed by pain, he lost consciousness and for a moment lay senseless. Later, when his life returned, he reflected on what had happened: ‘Alas, I have fallen into distress, and my righteous son is far away. He, wise as he is, would comfort me as my body burns with fever; but I have committed the grave sin of going where I should not. I have not performed atonement for that; perhaps there will be no good destination for me. My son will come, and to him I will give my wealth. What I have kept hidden at home, what I have not seen— that, too, I will give.’ As he was thinking thus, a traveler, drenched and shivering from the rain, entered. Seeing my father lying there, the traveler approached and drew near. Realizing that he was a sage, the traveler bowed his head in reverence and said, ‘O sage, why are you asleep? The twilight hour has arrived. The sun is setting; this is not the time for sleep.’ As soon as the traveler spoke, my father, Śarabha, his body burning with fever, somehow managed to reply: ‘Hear my words, traveler, which I speak before you.