Those who strive for their own satisfaction by harming or killing others only entangle themselves further in ignorance, never attaining true knowledge of themselves or others. The wise, therefore, are called to a higher vision: one should contemplate within, "I am Viṣṇu, and so is every other being." True virtue lies in feeling another’s suffering as one’s own, and in rejoicing at another’s happiness. Such a person, who embodies compassion and empathy, should be recognized as Hari himself, manifest in this world. But alas, the happiness pursued by those whose minds are deluded by ignorance is but a cause for shame. O serpent, happiness that comes from harming others, or giving pleasure or pain to living beings, is fleeting and easily gained in this world. Therefore, abandon violence and find true happiness. When you are pleased, we shall cross the vast ocean of suffering together. The serpent replied, "If violence against others is not a great sin for me, then why did the Creator fashion the eater and the eaten? Truly, as you have said, violence should not be done." Yet, among all things that are consumed, violence does not always occur. Nārāyaṇa is of universal form—this is the truth, without doubt. He himself created both the eater and the eaten, both the creator and protector. He consumes himself in this cosmic play; such is the creation of Hari. What power do I have to slay you? Fate itself, in the form of time, governs all. Now, Hari himself has sent me for this task; the god who created you both also protects you always. That same one, now in the form of time, brings death, appointing me as the instrument. Thus, Vyāsa narrates, the serpent devoured the two spouses. Crying out "Gaṅgā! Gaṅgā!" they wandered, afflicted by great hunger, along their journey. But in their pilgrimage to the banks of the sacred Jāhnavī, these two souls attained the great fruit of the Aśvamedha sacrifice. Indeed, they performed many such sacrifices and became unequalled, for I am Indra—Indra himself, by his own authority, relied on another. With hands offering arghya, walking on foot and surrounded by the gods, Indra arrived. Then, Rambhā, Urvaśī, and other beautiful, joyful women began to speak among themselves, proud of their youth: "This one is the best among the virtuous, a connoisseur of pleasure, exceedingly handsome. He has come; I will make him mine with my arts and attendants." One said to another, "I know every skill completely. Therefore, I shall become the beloved of this king; let him choose, for even Indra is under my sway. What is remarkable in this, that the king will become subject to my will?" Each woman joyfully declared, "This is my husband, my lord, my master, my protector." Hearing their varied words, one virtuous and discerning woman said, "The king himself favors Saudāsyā, so why should we quarrel?" Thus, abandoning their dispute, all the beautiful women, adorned in their ornaments and with uplifted hearts, came together. They worshipped that best of kings, sinless and with his wives, with offerings of water and other honors. Then Purandara, Indra himself, spoke. He seated the king and his wives in the celestial chariot Puṣpaka, as sweet sounds of drums, kettledrums, and ḍiṇḍimas resounded. The heavens filled with the clanging of cymbals, hand-clapping, and the victorious cries of the gods. Fanned by the lovely hands of divine women with white chowries, the king, with his wives, ascended to heaven in the chariot. Indra, fearing for his own position, gave half his seat to that righteous king. Dwelling always on the same seat with Indra in heaven, the king attained the status of Indra himself by the compassion of Keśava. Having enjoyed all pleasures in heaven for thousands of millions of ages, he then ascended the chariot and, by the Lord’s command, journeyed to Vaikuṇṭha. There, after enjoying the delights of an entire Manvantara, he attained supreme knowledge and, with his wives, liberation. O Brahmin, thus have I described in full the fruit that arises for one who gives up the body on the journey to the bank of the Jāhnavī. In the pilgrimage to the Gaṅgā’s banks, no fixed time is prescribed by the sages who see the truth, such as Nārada and others. Whenever a person bathes in the Gaṅgā, at that very moment he certainly obtains inexhaustible merit. It is certain that the Gaṅgā destroys all sins; but if one repeatedly commits sin, the Gaṅgā does not purify him. Therefore, abandoning sinful intent, O people, bathe in the Gaṅgā, the mother of the world, if you desire the highest good. The merit gained by humans from bathing in the Gaṅgā, O twice-born, is obtained only through actions that are extremely difficult to perform. One may count the raindrops or the dust particles of the earth, but the virtues of Bhagirathi, the Gaṅgā, cannot be described or enumerated. Having considered all the scriptures, I declare: by bathing even once in the waters of the Gaṅgā, a person attains liberation. Even one who bathes in well-water, while meditating on the Gaṅgā—the sovereign of the gods, destroyer of all suffering, sorrow, and fear—becomes freed from all heaps of sins, including the gravest, and by the grace of the Gaṅgā, attains Viṣṇu’s abode, the giver of all happiness, O twice-born.