Once, there lived a king whose wickedness knew no bounds. In his arrogance, he struck at the very forms of the gods, the sacred Vedas, and the rites of sacrifice, trampling them beneath his feet. One day, this king wandered through a dreadful forest, hunting wild animals. But fortune did not favor him: he found no game, and soon hunger and thirst gnawed at him. As night fell, the forest grew terrifying, filled with horrors. The king tied his horse to a branch and sat alone, restless and uneasy. Suddenly, something strange approached him. He wondered, “What is this? Where did it come from?” and tried to ward it off with his hand. But it bit him, and the king, distressed, collapsed to the ground. In that moment, his soul left his body and he became a ghost, entering into a dreadful accumulation of hells. The attendants of King Yama rejoiced at his arrival, for such a sinner brought them delight. Meanwhile, Vyāsa, his corpse was devoured by flesh-eating creatures. Rising into the sky, a bird carried meat from the king’s body in its beak. As the bird wandered, it came to the flowing waters of the divine river Śiprā, rich and abundant. The king’s flesh fell into the river’s waters. At that very moment, the three-eyed Lord Shiva, with matted locks and clad in a tiger skin, appeared before the messengers of Yama. Seeing this wondrous form, the messengers were struck with awe and reverence. They addressed the Lord of Dharma: “O great king! O Lord of Dharma, homage to you! The ruler of the Kīkaṭas is dull-witted, most sinful, and lord of outcastes. He has committed every sin, even those equal to slaying a Brahmin. He breaks boundaries and harms those who rightly follow caste and stage of life. This sinner delights in Yama’s rod and increases our joy. All the sinners who have fallen before, every one of them, fill the pits of hell. Yet, no cry of suffering is heard at all in your abode. Only one has come into the world who does not yield to the lord of death.” When the Lord of Dharma heard these words, he asked, “By what power of merit did this most sinful one attain blessedness?” He explained: “On earth, in the most sacred place, in the auspicious great forest of Mahākāla, those who touch the waters of the Śiprā are purified. By mind, body, and speech, people commit many sins. Yet whoever, at any place, says ‘Śiprā, Śiprā,’ whether man or creature, wherever there are insects, moths, or those who dwell in Śiprā’s waters, even those who have committed great sin elsewhere and take refuge on the banks of Śiprā at the end of their lives, when the month of Mādhava arrives, the best of men immerse themselves. The flesh carried by the wind from the king who committed wrong, when it falls into a pond, well, or lake, yields ever greater auspicious fruit. Therefore, the Tāpī river is ten times more meritorious, the Godā even more so; and Śiprā is ten times greater still, pure and a destroyer of sin. The flesh of Damanas’s body, having come into contact with Śiprā, attains purification. Such a beautiful river exists on the earth in Avanti. Hearing the words of Dharmarāja, the hosts were struck with wonder. And in the Purāṇas, the supreme greatness of Śiprā is sung for all to hear.