Do not disregard the sacred Gaṅgā, honored by the very gods and flowing so near at hand. If you, O most fortunate one, seek her favor, she will grant whatever is sought by her devoted worshippers. Even animals, lacking all knowledge, if they die in her waters, are liberated and become one with Brahman—how then could you, a human, ever turn away from her? Śivaśarman spoke: When my truth-loving father heard these words, he gave up all worldly concerns and remained in our house, his mind turned away from the affairs of the world. Each day, at the three sacred times, he would bathe in the Gaṅgā. And wherever in our home the Purāṇa was being recited, he would always go there, drawn to the sacred stories. One day, he heard of the greatness of the holy Yamunā’s sacred tirtha. That steadfast soul listened to the glories of that sacred place, O my son. From Avimukta, Haridvāra, Prayāga, Puṣkara, Ayodhyā, Dvārakā, Kāñcī, Mathurā, and many other holy places—he learned that the merit of this particular tirtha, containing the essence of all sacred waters, was said by my learned brother to be a hundred times greater than all others. Inspired by this, my father quietly left our home, unnoticed by anyone. He journeyed to that holy place, his great soul devoted at the feet of Govinda, just as we are. Upon arriving, my noble father, longing for liberation, performed the ritual bath at the tirtha that awakens the Vedas, three times each day. He remained there for several months, dwelling at this most excellent of holy sites. Wise and free from worldly desires, he lived simply, fulfilling his duties in a humble dwelling. But one day, he was suddenly struck by a most terrible fever. The pain was so great that he lost consciousness, lying senseless for a time. Later, as his life-breath returned, he reflected on his suffering: “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 coming here against the wishes of my family. I have not performed any atonement—perhaps no good destination awaits me. When my son comes, I will give him all my wealth. Even what I have hidden at home, and what I have not yet seen, that too I will give.” As my father was thinking thus, a traveler arrived, drenched and shivering from the rain. His body trembling, the traveler entered the dwelling and, seeing my father lying there, approached and drew near. Realizing that my father was a sage, the traveler bowed his head in reverence and said, “O sage, why do you sleep? The twilight hour has come, the sun is setting—this is not the time for rest.” Hearing these words, my father, Śarabha, though burning with fever, managed to speak: “Hear my words, traveler, which I speak before you. May you, by my good fortune, act accordingly. I am a merchant named Śarabha, and my home is in Kānyakubja. Though forbidden by my wife, my enemies, and my sons, I came here, having heard from my son the greatness of this holy place. Several months have passed since my arrival, and now, for three days, I have suffered from this fever. My life-breath left me and has only today returned. O virtuous one, truly, how much of my lifespan remains?” “I have seen the house of Śamana and returned again. By some stroke of fortune, you have come here to me. Friend, take me to my house, and I will give you much wealth. I will reward you when we reach my home—show me compassion, O ocean of mercy. Or, if you wish, dig up a piece of land here and take my wealth.” Śivaśarman continued: Hearing this, the greedy villager—wicked-minded and covetous—replied, “I will do as you have said.” He promptly dug up the wealth from the indicated spot and placed it before my father, Śarabha. The traveler said, “This wealth, O lord of men, I have taken from your land. Give it to me quickly, so that I may bring a palanquin for you. Placing you, who are afflicted with fever, upon it, I will take you home.” My father then gave him three gold coins. Taking this wealth, the man went to Lavaṇa City. After spending one night, he returned with a palanquin, its attendants, and bearers, and, giving two more gold coins, brought my brother. That unrighteous man took the coins, placed Śarabha, the best of merchants, in the palanquin, and set out, urging the bearers swiftly toward Kānyakubja. As they journeyed, the traveler took water from his water-pot, giving a little at a time to my parched father. Then, on the shore of a lake, they stopped to eat. After bathing and eating, they set out again in haste. As they traveled, they drank water from the pot and gave some to Śarabha, who was still parched with thirst. But as they made their way through a lonely forest, a terrifying Rākṣasa named Vikaṭa, wandering in search of prey, saw them. Driven by hunger, his mouth agape, he rushed toward them, shaking the earth with the force of his stride. Swiftly, he seized the bearers and the traveler, and, gathering them with all their belongings, the sky-roaming demon whirled them around. By that violent whirling, their lives departed, and he dashed them to the ground.