As the tale unfolds, the scene shifts to the celestial city of Purandara, where a noble and beautiful woman, surrounded by other radiant young maidens, inspires courage in the heart of Śakra himself. Joyfully, her companions depart, leaving her beloved and blessed in the divine realm. Her fortune is so great that, as long as her bones rest in the sacred waters of the Gaṅgā, she remains in the abode of the gods for countless millions of families. Kings who have attained the heavenly realms by the power of their austerities find her to be a source of affection, for such is the wondrous fruit of immersing one’s bones in the Gaṅgā. The merit gained by abandoning the body in the Gaṅgā is beyond description. As long as the bones remain in her waters, for hundreds of millions of aeons, the soul dwells in the celestial realms. When a body placed in the Gaṅgā is carried away by her currents, the soul receives an extraordinary result: in heaven, celestial maidens, though frightened, fan him with charming chowries. He reclines, delighted, on a golden couch, attended by these divine beings. If his dead body is seen upon the sandbanks of Jāhnavī, his entire family is purified by the sun’s rays, and his body is anointed with divine sandalwood fragrance. Such a person sports eternally in heaven with celestial maidens. Even if his body is devoured by crows, vultures, jackals, or fierce birds, or is torn apart and seen in such a state, the result remains: in heaven, embraced by divine maidens with beautiful forms, he sleeps always upon a celestial couch. Though his remains may be surrounded by ants, insects, or flies, if his bones are found fallen in the Gaṅgā, the fruit of his merit is inexhaustible. The hosts of gods salute him, adorned with jeweled crowns, and the dust from his feet is scattered in heaven. For a long time, he becomes like Śakra himself. Even if a person’s body falls into the Gaṅgā against their will, all their sins are washed away and they become one with Nārāyaṇa. Wherever embers from funeral pyres are seen carried by the waters of the Gaṅgā, the soul remains in heaven for hundreds of aeons, equal to the number of those embers. All other merits may eventually be exhausted, but the merit gained when a body falls into the Gaṅgā never diminishes. What more can be said? The settled truth is this: the greatness of one who gives up the body in the Gaṅgā cannot be fully comprehended. Whoever, even once, touches the waters of the Gaṅgā with devotion and feeling, which destroy heaps of terrible sins, crosses over the dreadful ocean of worldly existence and reaches the far shore of supreme satisfaction, as if carried by a boat. Moved by these words, Jaimini asks again, “O teacher, tell me once more of the supreme glory of the Gaṅgā. The nectar of her story is so sweet that I wish to drink it again.” Vyāsa replies, “I will tell you again, for you are devoted to the Gaṅgā. The feet of those who walk along the banks of Jāhnavī are truly blessed. Blessed are the ears that hear the roar of her waves, the tongue that knows the sweet taste of her water. Blessed are the eyes that behold her beautiful waves, and the forehead marked with her sacred water. Blessed are the hands that worship Hari on her banks, and the body purified in her clear waters. O best of the twice-born, the body that falls there grants the fruits of the four aims of life. All ancestors dwelling in heaven come to the bank of Jāhnavī. Seeing this, they rejoice and say, ‘We performed this merit in the past to attain a good destination. This merit will become inexhaustible, for our son is such as this; by these Gaṅgā waters, we are now satisfied. We shall attain the supreme abode, which even the gods find hard to reach, by whatever offerings our son gives us in the Gaṅgā. All those offerings will become inexhaustible for us.’ Even ancestors who are in hell, afflicted by suffering, say when they see their son coming to the bank of Jāhnavī, ‘Whatever sins we committed that cause the torments of hell will be destroyed by the grace of our son; we shall all be freed from unbearable torments.’ Then, by the son’s grace, the ancestors attain the highest state. But if a mortal, after setting out, returns home out of delusion, all his ancestors become hopeless, just as those who have departed, if he brings offerings, engages in sexual union, or rides on a swing, a horse, or an elephant. One should avoid wearing shoes and carrying an umbrella during journeys to the Gaṅgā. He should not consider the hardship and fatigue of the road as difficult, nor think of the comforts of home or bathing in the Gaṅgā there. He should not speak falsehoods or associate with heretics. He should avoid eating twice, quarrelling, slandering others, greed, pride, anger, and envy during the journey. Excessive laughter and sorrow should be avoided; he should imagine himself as one sleeping on a cot or lying on the ground. As he travels, he should recite the auspicious names of the Gaṅgā and her greatness as the destroyer of all sins. Along the path, he should speak of her as the giver of happiness and liberation: ‘O Gaṅgā, goddess, mother of the world, grant me your vision.’ With gentle words, he should dispel his fatigue, saying, ‘Alas, how have I left my home, or how have I come here?’ Such is the supreme glory and boundless merit of the Gaṅgā, the sacred river, whose waters grant liberation, satisfaction, and blessings to all who approach her with devotion.