In the sacred tradition, it is said that through offerings of libations and balls of food, even ancestors who dwell in hell can be rescued and led to heaven by their sons. Such acts of devotion and care lift the spirits of the departed, granting them heavenly realms. Those who drink the waters of the Sarasvatī at Puṣkara are blessed indeed. They attain imperishable worlds, honored by the great Brahmā and Viśveśa themselves. At Puṣkara, the Sarasvatī becomes like a ladder to heaven, accessible to men of merit. In every place at Puṣkara, the river is frequented by sages who know the essence of dharma, and so the goddess Sarasvatī is pure and present everywhere. Yet, at Puṣkara, she is the purest of the pure, and the sacred river Sarasvatī is easily found in this world. She is rare at Kurukṣetra, Prabhāsa, and also at Puṣkara, but Puṣkara is established as the foremost of all tīrthas on earth. Attaining the eastern Sarasvatī fulfills all four aims of life—dharma, wealth, pleasure, and liberation. Whoever, after reaching it, seeks another tīrtha is like one who abandons nectar held in his hand and desires poison instead. Among the tīrthas, the eastern is called the best, the middle one is middling. It is prescribed for the wise to circumambulate the tīrthas, keeping the smaller one to the right, bathing and performing the ritual in all three. He who offers water mixed with sesame seeds to the ancestors, when they are pleased, is granted boundless rewards. One who bathes and purifies himself daily, beholds the forefathers in all arrangements—direct, reverse, separately, and together. Daily bathing at Puṣkara is recommended for those desiring the world of Brahma, for there are three pure peaks and three springs. The Puṣkaras are renowned—the smaller, the middle, and the eldest Puṣkara—though the reason for their fame is unknown. They are called by the names of peaks and auspicious springs, and a man who approaches them with intentions for dharma, wealth, pleasure, and liberation gains their fruits without fail. If one abandons his body there, he attains liberation without doubt. Purified and restrained, having bathed, he should offer auspicious gifts to a Brahmin. By giving even a single cow, purified by mantra, he attains worlds—what need is there for many words? Even at night, for one who desires it. He who gives wealth after bathing enjoys endless happiness, and sages praise the gift of sesame seeds there. Bathing is always prescribed on the fourteenth day of the dark fortnight. He who offers a ball made of flour or even jaggery there, purified for the ancestors, attains the world of the ancestors. Reaching the Puṣkara forest, he then proceeds to Sarasvatī. Once, Sarasvatī entered concealment and set out, facing west. Not far from Puṣkara, there is a very beautiful place. Arriving at a palm grove adorned with fruits and flowers, the goddess stayed there, then entered a forest delightful to sages. This forest, filled with flowers of all seasons and served by siddhas and celestial beings, is home to the river Nandā, famed in the three worlds. Nandā abounds with fish, crocodiles, and aquatic creatures, and her waters are pure. At this point, Sūta recounted that Devavrata asked, “What other is that excellent river?” He expressed his curiosity about Nandā, called Sarasvatī, and wondered how she came to be and why she is the best of rivers. When this question was spoken, Pulastya began to recount to Bhīṣma the ancient story of how Nandā came to be named. There was once a king named Prabhaṃjana, always devoted to the warrior’s vow. He was mighty and often hunted animals in that forest. One day, he saw a doe standing within a thicket and struck her, who was moving ahead, with a very sharp arrow. The doe looked in all directions, saw him holding the arrow, and spoke: “What have you done, fool? This deed is most difficult. I was only offering my breast, lowered, to my child, and you struck me swiftly out of greed for flesh. A king should not kill such a deer—one nursing her hidden fawn, or one engaged in secret mating—so I have heard before. While I was giving my breast to this child, you killed me with an arrow like a thunderbolt, though I was blameless and had come to the forest.” She then pronounced a curse: “Therefore, you of evil mind, you too shall become a flesh-eater; in this thorny forest, assume the form of a tiger.” Hearing her words, the king stood before her, his senses disturbed, and with joined palms, spoke to the doe: “It was not my intention to kill one offering her breast to her child; I acted in ignorance, O gentle one. Be gracious, with firm composure. When will I, after abandoning the form of a tiger, regain a human body? Tell me, doe, the release from such a curse.” Thus addressed, the doe spoke auspicious words: “O king, at the end of a hundred years, when the curse has run its course, you will converse with Nandā. After meeting and conversing with Nandā, the end will come.” When the doe had spoken, the king then became a tiger. Fierce in the form of a tiger, armed with claws and fangs, he dwelt there, killing and devouring four-footed animals. In time, he also devoured the two-footed beings who dwelled there. Thus, in that forest, a hundred years passed for him. While eating the flesh of deer, he reproached himself: “When will I again attain a human state like this?” Thus unfolds the tale, as told in the sacred tradition.