In ancient times, there lived a man notorious for betraying trust, arrogant in his ways, and fond of keeping company with thieves. His wickedness knew no bounds, and through his sinful actions, many innocent creatures lost their lives along the roads he frequented. Amidst this turmoil was a brāhmaṇa, a self-controlled soul learned in the Vedas and their branches. This brāhmaṇa’s wife, famed for her virtue and beauty, resided in her father’s house, but he brought her to live with him. She was a woman of excellent form, endowed with both charm and grace. When her husband met his end—slain, perhaps by the very wickedness that plagued the land—she was overcome with grief, her heart shattered by the separation. Yet, with a spirit both joyful and resolute, she ascended the blazing funeral pyre alongside her departed husband, embracing her fate. As for the wicked man, his misdeeds caught up with him. He was seized on the road by the king’s servants, brought to the royal palace, and presented before the king. Justice was swift: his neck was bound with a rope, and he was hanged within the hollow of a tree. The consequences of his actions followed him beyond death. He was cast into the Raurava hell, and after that, driven by the enforcers of Yama’s commands, he entered yet another hell. There, he suffered greatly, beaten with mallets and bound in chains by the servants. Thus, the sinner endured many kinds of hells, one after another. His suffering transformed him. He became a being of great size, with a loud voice, a huge belly, and a mouth as narrow as the eye of a needle. Then, reaching an even more wretched state, he took on a demoniac form. His food was polluted—excrement, urine, leavings, and putrid, stale remains. His dwelling was in broken wells and tanks, on dry trees, and in waterless places. He found pleasure only in such desolate spots, at all times and in every region. Wherever there was a beautiful Maheśvara liṅga or an excellent pond, his presence cast a shadow. One day, a seeker of water, having killed this sinner, entered a sacred pond. By the power of this merit, all the seeker’s sins were destroyed. The demoniac being abandoned his wretched body and entered the liṅga as a being of light. From that moment, the god became known as Piśācamocaneśa, the Lord who frees from demons. Until one comes to the tīrtha of the Śiprā at Piśācamocana, and worships Piśācamocana according to the proper rites, great acts of charity should be performed at this sacred place. The tale of release from the piśāca, which destroys sin, is celebrated here. O Brahman, a question arises: When did the Nīla Gaṅgā come together at the Śiprā lake? It is said that a man, having bathed in the Nīla Gaṅgā, should worship Saṃgameśvara. The faults arising from bad association never occur there. The river herself, clad in blue and afflicted with purity, purifies the three worlds wherever she flows. Yet, by wicked conduct and offense, she was brought to this state, and the remnants of impurity linger within her, as they do in all embodied beings. With a blue hue, discolored, she turned away from all dharma. Those who abandon her here become completely pure. For us, O Dhātṛ, great suffering has arisen—the utmost impurity. There is no place in the world for the most sinful and impure. What shall I do, where shall I go, by which peace may come to me? By what means may I, whose body is smeared with sin, regain my true nature? In the delightful Mahākālavana stands this city, Amarāvatī, a place of hope and redemption amidst the trials of impurity and suffering.