Hear now a wondrous account, O wise one, of the sacred glory of the Ganga and the unfolding tale of the gods. It is said that any sin committed at other holy places finds its destruction in the purifying waters of the Ganga. Yet, should one commit sin while in the presence of the Ganga herself, no place in the world can offer solace or purification for such a transgression. Therefore, those learned in the scriptures are urged never to commit sin on the banks of the Ganga. By deed, thought, and word, one should always strive to gather righteousness, for the river is ever watchful. So powerful is the Ganga that there exists no land, mountain, or forest where her divine presence does not destroy sin. O Jaimini, know this: having once dwelt by the Ganga’s bank, one should not tarry elsewhere, not even for a moment, no matter how many duties call. Even after subsisting on alms, one must remain by her side, never departing, not even if kingship itself is offered. Such is her grace that even a slayer of a Brahmin, if he abandons his mortal body in the Ganga, is freed; elsewhere, not even a thousand horse sacrifices can grant such liberation. Whoever dwells on her banks and is devoted to worshiping Hari, even if in no previous birth has he worshiped Hari, is touched by her sanctity. Yet, if devotion does not arise in him toward Ganga, the mother of worlds, hear this repeated proclamation to all humanity. Bathing in the Ganga leads one to the supreme state, and whoever chants “Ganga, Ganga” at the time of death is freed from all sins and dwells in heaven for tens of thousands of divine ages. If, at the moment of passing, the narration of Ganga’s glory is heard, one goes to the abode of Vishnu, all impurities falling away. The wise who remember her name at death, the name that grants liberation, find favor with Hari. Even one who bears the mark of Ganga’s water at the end, or who, upon seeing a Ganga-bather, leaves this body—even in the cremation ground—attains the merit of dying on her banks. As long as one’s bones remain in the Ganga, so long is one honored in Vishnu’s world, for thousands of aeons. Whose ashes, bones, nails, or even hair sink into her waters, dwells in the realm of Vishnu. While the bones remain in the Ganga, whatever action a man performs, its entire fruit is declared to be auspicious. Now, listen to a tale of the gods. Once, the blessed Shakra, adorned with splendid ornaments, sought pleasure and entered a playhouse with a young woman, Padmagandhā, fragrant like the lotus and skilled in the arts of enjoyment. In the freshness of her youth, she delighted the lord of the gods with many pleasures. Reclining on a golden couch belonging to his co-wife, Shakra, overcome by passion, dwelt at Padmagandhā’s feet, her eyes gentle as a fawn’s. So pleased was Shakra with her that he fashioned a golden box and gave it to her. At that very moment, Paulomī—most beautiful and adorned—entered the house. Seeing Shakra, the lord of all gods, thus engaged, Paulomī’s heart filled with anger, and she addressed him: “O god, what are you doing, beloved, lord of all the gods? You give a golden betel box to a woman who is but a servant to me. All the gods bow to you and touch your feet, yet you touch the feet of Padmagandhā, a mere servant? Even a bee, if asked, would become fragrant but lose its fame. You, husband of countless beauties and master of all radiance—how can you perform such a disgraceful act? Leave behind this servant Padmagandhā, who lacks true qualities. You are the queen upon the couch, while Shakra is at your feet.” Thus, Paulomī, virtuous and firm, rebuked Padmagandhā in many ways. Angered, Padmagandhā replied, “Only the master knows my virtues and faults. By what authority do you insult me, who is said to lack qualities? Others, even with two eyes, see both virtue and fault, but one with a thousand eyes and evil intent sees nothing. Faults spread easily; virtues are seldom seen. Even the moon’s blemish is noticed by those who value virtue, while those who speak harm and are cruel remain devoid of virtue. If I have no virtue, then let your husband worship you alone.” Having spoken thus, Padmagandhā, her eyes like lotuses, rose in anger from the golden couch, lamenting greatly. Indra, seeing her depart, called after her: “Beloved, mistress of my life, where are you going, leaving me? What wrong have I done to you? Tell me, beautiful one. I am your servant, and I perform the duties of a servant for you. The wife of a servant becomes a servant, yet you do not listen to my words.” Then Shakra, his mind bewildered by delusion, rose and placed the beautiful Padmagandhā again upon his lap. Śacī (Paulomī) said, “The life of a Krauncha bird is blessed; surely my life is wasted. You are always fortunate, O mistress, while I am unfortunate. As long as the merit of the Krauncha lasts, it will be exhausted. Born in the Krauncha lineage, you will again experience sorrow. Until then, enjoy pleasure with the king of gods as you wish. How many days, O Krauncha, will you not be, O one without virtue?” Hearing these words, Padmagandhā was greatly astonished. Abandoning the state of conflict, she bowed and spoke to Paulomī with respect: “O daughter of Puloma, O exalted one, what you have said is remarkable.” Thus unfolds the narrative, revealing the sanctity of the Ganga and the intricate play of virtue, jealousy, and fate among the gods.