You must not go to Kapila; there is no fault for you in refraining from doing so. In ancient times, the sages who were ever devoted to dharma recited a verse in this regard, recalling the words of Kapila himself. Kapila declared, “Never, even for my own sake, do I utter the slightest falsehood. If one were to weigh a thousand horse sacrifices against a single act of truth, the scale would tip in favor of truth. Therefore, I will not speak an untruth, not even to save my own life. “To forsake one’s own life—a thing so difficult to relinquish—for the sake of supreme truth, is the highest virtue. Indeed, when one is steadfast in truth, death itself cannot touch them under any circumstance.” As these words were spoken, someone beheld Kapila and was struck with astonishment, his eyes widened in wonder. For those who are devoted to truth, nothing inauspicious ever befalls them. “Kapila,” he said, “you have spoken before, swearing oaths and upholding your vow of truth.” Kapila replied, “Therefore, go—freed by me—to where your son awaits you.” At that very moment, as Pulastya narrates, the king was restored to his true form. With a heart full of joy, he addressed Kapila, the unwavering speaker of truth: “O cow, what favor may I grant you today? Speak swiftly, and it shall be done.” The cow replied, “I am tormented by thirst; bring me water at once.” The king assured her, “Know that I do not speak falsehood. My words are true.” Setting an arrow to his bow, he took careful aim and released it into the earth. Instantly, pure, cool, and auspicious water sprang forth from the spot. At that very moment, Dharma himself appeared, pleased by the king’s truthfulness. “Because of your unwavering devotion to truth,” Dharma proclaimed, “there is none equal to you anywhere. By your radiance, you shall attain a divine realm, untouched by old age and death. Let this sacred reservoir of water be renowned by my name. On the fourteenth day especially, those who come here will attain the highest state. By your name, this holy place will become supremely meritorious. Bathing here will bestow a hundred thousandfold merit, and gifts given here will yield inexhaustible virtue. Those who perform śrāddha here, with full concentration, will be greatly blessed. Even insects and moths, tormented by thirst, who enter these auspicious waters, are uplifted—how much more so for humans endowed with devotion and truthfulness in speech!” “O king,” Pulastya continued, “by the power of Kapilā, all have arrived here. Then Kapilā, surrounded by cows and herds, ascended to the higher worlds. Therefore, one should bathe here with all effort and devotion.” Pulastya then spoke of another marvel: “In that very place, long ago, fire itself was lost—and even the gods recovered it there.” Yayāti, curious, asked, “How was the fire recovered at that spot, O great sage?” Pulastya replied, “The entire world, afflicted by hunger, was seized by great doubt. Most living beings perished, and those who survived were as if dead upon the earth. When such hardship befell the mortal realm, when food and medicinal herbs vanished, only bones remained. Agni, the fire-god, himself, afflicted by hunger and thirst, reached the dwelling of a caṇḍāla. The caṇḍāla took him in, brought him home, and washed him with water. Knowing what was fit and unfit to eat, Agni reflected, ‘Now that medicinal herbs have vanished from the world, this is indeed suitable for the time. Yet, I will not consume what is unfit to eat. Instead, I shall abandon the earth.’” Thus, the story unfolds, revealing the supreme power of truth, the sanctity of holy places, and the mysteries of the gods themselves.