O Jaimini, listen as I recount the wondrous tale of Padmagandhā, the virtuous and lovely one, whose story is woven with the grace of the gods and the sanctity of the Ganges. There was a time, even among the hosts of Indra, when Padmagandhā, like Pulomajā before her, was insulted by one untouched by outcastes. The sting of those words weighed heavily upon her heart, and her lotus-like face faded with sorrow. Quietly, she departed from Indra’s abode as she had come, though her fragrance lingered in his celestial halls. Yet the memory of those hurtful words remained ever awake in her mind. One day, the lord of the gods, Indra himself, pleased by her unwavering virtue, approached her. “Choose a boon, O beautiful-hipped one, whatever you desire,” he said kindly. Padmagandhā replied, “O Indra, you are lord of all the gods and master of countless women. Yet you are under my power, my lord—what need have I of other boons? Still, if you wish to grant me a boon, O best of gods, vow before me by deed, thought, and word.” Indra assured her, “Life, wealth, kingdom, retinue—command me, O beautiful one, and I will give it to you. Truly, there is no doubt in this. Whatever you desire, O doe-eyed one, I will surely grant.” Padmagandhā then spoke her wish: “If you are truly pleased with me, O lord of the gods, let me be born again in the womb of an elephant; grant me this boon once more.” Indra, bound by his promise, agreed. “O lovely-hipped one, I grant you this boon. Yet many sorrows fill my heart at the thought of being separated from you. Not seeing you, I find no joy even for a moment. How can I endure such a long separation? When you, O compassionate one, show me your tender affection, stay with me a little while longer. Then, speak of the great prosperity of the king of the gods.” Thus, Padmagandhā remained in the celestial abode for ten thousand years. When that time had passed, she approached Indra and said, “O lord of the gods, give me permission to fulfill my cherished desire. I shall go to the realm of action; I bow to your feet.” Indra, moved by her loving devotion, replied, “Because of the greatness of your love for me, O moon-faced one, stay with me a few more days, then you may depart as you wish.” So, in the house of amusements, Padmagandhā and Indra delighted together, day and night, for three periods of ten thousand years. At last, she joyfully told Indra, “Give me instructions; I am now going to the earth.” Indra pleaded, “Cast off your lethargy, O lovely-hipped one, and stay here with me. I cannot leave you, who are dearer to me than life itself.” Padmagandhā replied, “O lord of the gods, when my merit is exhausted, then I shall go to earth. Your separation from me will be long, but when I am separated, I wish to return to earth again. And again, I wish to return to heaven for the sake of earning merit; having gone to the realm of action, by whatever means, O Vasava, I shall do that. If separation ever occurs, it will not be by you.” Indra consented, “O blessed one, whenever you truly wish to perform this action, then go; you will return quickly, O beautiful one.” With tears streaming from her eyes, her body wet, Padmagandhā was embraced by Indra. “Go, dear one,” he said, and by his command, the virtuous woman descended to the realm of action. Padmagandhā was then born in the womb of an elephant, and, blessed with memory of her previous existence, she remembered her story. After a few days, she made her way to the banks of the sacred Jahnavi, the Ganges. There, having bathed in its holy waters, she adorned herself with Ganges mud, uttering “Ganga, Ganga,” and entered the deep pool. The elephant, mountain-like, entered the waters, recalling her own birth, and there she passed again from life. The gods, witnessing the elephant’s boldness and Padmagandhā’s devotion, joyfully showered her with divine flowers such as pārijāta. Then, surrounded by all the hosts of gods, Indra swiftly brought her forth after their long separation. Padmagandhā, also known as Sumana, returned to the dark-skinned Puṣpaketā, and seeing her divine form, the lord of the gods spoke of his own sorrows and returned to his abode. Pulomajā, Rambhā, Pramlocā, Urvaśī, and other beautiful maidens joyfully departed from her, leaving Padmagandhā to inspire courage in Indra’s heart. She remained in Purandara’s city, fortunate and beloved. O Jaimini, as long as her bones rest in the sacred Ganges, she dwells in the abode of the gods for as many hundreds of millions of families as there are. The kings who, by the power of their austerities, have attained the realms of the gods, find in her a ground of affection; such is the fruit, O Jaimini, of immersing bones in the Ganges. The merit of abandoning the body in the Ganges cannot be described; as long as the bones remain in the Ganges, for as many hundreds of millions of aeons, the soul dwells in the abode of the gods. O twice-born, when a dead body in the Ganges is carried away by the currents, listen to the result: in heaven, celestial maidens, frightened yet eager, fan the soul with charming chowries. He lies asleep, delighted, on a golden couch, fanned by their hands; if his dead body is seen on the sandbank of the Jahnavi, his family is purified by the rays of the sun, and his entire form is anointed with divine fragrant sandalwood. He always sports in heaven with celestial maidens. But even if his body is devoured by crows, vultures, jackals, and terrifying birds, the sanctity of the Ganges grants him supreme reward. Such is the glory of the holy river and the power of devotion, as revealed in the story of Padmagandhā.