As the night deepened in the peaceful Siddhāśrama, the great sage Viśvāmitra turned to Rāma and spoke with gentle gravity: “Indeed, O Rāma, it was through strict observance that I left her behind and journeyed here. I reached Siddhāśrama, and by your divine energy, I have been perfected.” Then, in answer to Rāma’s questions, the sage continued, “This, O mighty-armed one, is the full account of my birth and my lineage, and of this land, as you have asked.” Viśvāmitra paused, noting the hour. “O descendant of Kakutstha, midnight has now passed as I have been recounting these stories. Seek rest now, blessed one. May fortune favor you, and may nothing hinder our journey ahead.” He gestured to the world outside: “See, all the trees stand motionless, the wild animals and birds have withdrawn into silence, and the directions, O delight of the Raghus, are veiled in the darkness of night. Twilight is slowly fading; the sky, as if adorned with countless eyes, glows with the light of stars and constellations. The cool-rayed moon rises, dispelling the darkness of the world and delighting the hearts of all living beings with its gentle radiance. Now, all the night-dwelling creatures stir and move about, as do hosts of yakṣas, rākṣasas, and fierce, flesh-eating spirits.” Having spoken thus, the sage of immense brilliance fell silent. All the assembled sages, moved by his words, honored him with exclamations of “Excellent, excellent!” They praised the great lineage of the Kuśikas, always devoted to righteousness, and the noble descendants of Kuśa, who were said to be comparable to Brahma himself, the foremost among men. “Especially you, illustrious Viśvāmitra, are renowned,” they said, “and Kauśikī, the best among rivers, brings glory to your line.” Praised by these delighted sages, the glorious son of Kuśika surrendered to sleep, like the sun setting at the end of day. Rāma and Saumitri, somewhat amazed by all they had heard, offered their own praise to the foremost sage and then, too, sought restful sleep. Thus closes the thirty-fourth chapter. Now begins the thirty-fifth. As the night waned on the banks of the Śoṇa, and the darkness gave way to a brightening sky, Viśvāmitra roused the young princes. “The night is bright, Rāma; the early dawn is upon us. Rise, rise, and may all be well with you. Prepare yourself for the journey ahead.” Hearing these words, Rāma performed his morning rites, eager to set forth. He then turned to the sage and asked, “This Śoṇa river is beautiful—its waters are pure and deep, adorned with sandbanks. By which path, O sage, shall we cross?” Viśvāmitra replied, “This is the path I have shown, the way by which the great sages travel.” Guided by the wise Viśvāmitra, Rāma, Lakṣmaṇa, and the sages set out, passing through forests teeming with life. They journeyed a long distance; when half the day had passed, they came upon the sacred Jāhnavī, foremost among rivers and beloved of sages. At the sight of this holy river, alive with swans and cranes, the hearts of all—sages and Rāghavas alike—were filled with joy. On her banks, they settled their lodging. After bathing according to custom, they offered oblations to their ancestors and to the gods. Having performed the sacred fire rituals and partaken of offerings as sweet as nectar, they rested on the auspicious bank of the Jāhnavī, content and joyful. Gathered around the great-souled Viśvāmitra, all seated in proper order, Rāma, his mind delighted, addressed the sage: “Revered one, I wish to hear about Gaṅgā, the river that traverses three paths. How did she, after conquering the three worlds, become the lord of rivers?” Prompted by Rāma’s words, Viśvāmitra began to recount the wondrous origin of Gaṅgā. “O Rāma, Himavat, the lord of mountains and source of countless minerals, had two daughters of unmatched beauty. Their mother was Menā, the lovely and slender-waisted daughter of Meru, and beloved wife to Himavat. From her, O descendant of Raghu, was born Gaṅgā, the eldest daughter; the second was Umā by name. “Desiring to accomplish the work of the gods, all the deities approached Himavat and sought his eldest daughter, Gaṅgā, the river that flows in three paths. Himavat, acting righteously, gave his daughter Gaṅgā, purifier of the worlds, to flow by her own will for the benefit of all three worlds. The gods, their purpose fulfilled, joyfully departed with Gaṅgā. “As for the other daughter, Umā, she was steadfast in severe vows and practiced intense austerity. Himavat, recognizing her fierce devotion, gave Umā—revered by the worlds and unmatched in beauty—to Rudra. Thus, O Rāghava, these two daughters of the king of mountains—Gaṅgā, the best of rivers, and Umā Devī—are honored throughout the world. “All this I have told you, O best of the wise—how the threefold-flowing Gaṅgā first ascended to the sky. This beautiful, divine river, the daughter of the lord of mountains, rose sinless to the world of the gods, bearing her sacred waters.” Now begins the thirty-sixth chapter. When the sage had finished, the heroic Rāghava and Lakṣmaṇa, delighted by the tale, addressed the eminent sage once more: “O Brāhmaṇa, you have told this supreme and righteous account. Now, please describe in detail the birth of the eldest daughter of the king of mountains, for you alone know the full story of her divine and human origins.” And so, the story continued, flowing onward like the sacred Gaṅgā herself.