With a purposeful heart, bound by a vow connected to the sacredness of water, the Lord resolved to fulfill his intention. He chose to remain immersed within those pure waters, devoted wholly to their sanctity. The place he selected was filled with clear, sparkling water—a holy tirtha, renowned for bestowing great happiness upon those who visited. Under the guise of his vow, the Lord of the gods entered the waters without delay. There, as he dwelled in meditation, the goddess herself, after deep contemplation, was instantly united with Shiva within those waters. Yet, by the subtle pretext of her vow, Gauri did not recognize the Lord; he, endowed with the highest knowledge of liberation, wandered there, his presence concealed. It was then that another beheld Mahadeva standing within the water, steadfast in his observance of the vow. Noticing a change in the ascetic’s face and eyes, he wondered at this transformation. Through the power of meditative vision, he saw Maheshvara deeply absorbed in the Ganga’s embrace. Witnessing this, he recounted all that had transpired concerning Hara’s actions. Upon hearing this, the goddess, filled with urgency, hastened to the place where Maheshvara remained. As she approached, her heart burned with anger, a great force stirring within her. Narada, the divine sage, announced the impending meeting of the two to the goddess, knowing its significance. Though the goddess was exceedingly proud, gentle and conciliatory words soothed her spirit. In that very moment, her virtue shone forth; thus, she was approached with peace and respect. Rudra then addressed Jahnavi, speaking to her as the best of kings might. Jahnavi, the Ganga, approached modestly, her palms joined in reverence. She recalled her descent from the heavens, saying, “Formerly, at your beloved’s command, I fell from the sky.” She spoke of her growing affection for Bhagiratha, whose devotion had drawn her to earth. “Now, by your words, O queen of the gods, I understand. He is the lord of the three worlds—how could he ever depart from that?” The Lord spoke kindly to her, affirming, “What you have said is true.” He then offered her a boon, inviting her to choose whatever her heart desired. Humbly, Ganga requested, “Grant me one day for play with him.” She specified: “On the thirteenth day of the bright half of Caitra, O queen of the gods—let it be day and night both.” Thus, the pool on earth where these events occurred became known as Śiva-Gaṅgā. After embracing her again and again, the Lord let her go, and Ganga departed, her face lowered in modesty. O king, thus did these wondrous events transpire in ancient times at that sacred pool. It is said that on the thirteenth day of the bright half of Caitra, one should bathe in those holy waters. Any inauspiciousness committed there is utterly destroyed, and by the number of hairs on his body, a man surely attains heaven. After these events, the great Lord, changeless in his form, established the sacred liṅga at that place. But a question arose: why was that liṅga cast down by the great-souled Vālakhilyas? This is a marvelous story, and I shall recount it as it truly happened. In ancient times, when Sati—steadfast and true—met her end, Kāmadeva, the god of love, armed himself with his flowery bow and swiftly approached Shiva. Sensing his approach, Tripurāntaka vanished out of fear and made his way to the hermitage of the Vālakhilyas—a place of sanctity, adorned with noble trees. There, he encountered women clad only in the directions, their minds clouded by desire. Speaking sweetly, they called out to him again and again: “O king, enjoy with us.” Thus unfolds the sacred tale, woven from the deeds and vows of gods and goddesses, and the holy places touched by their presence.