It so happened that unwittingly he took a wrong road, and had to pass near a sea coast. His elder brother was also on his way up to Bânâras by that very same route. They met and recognised each other, even at a distance. They flew into each other’s arms. Both remained still for a time almost unconscious with joy. The emotion of pleasure (ânanda) was so great, especially in Gaṅgâdhara, that it proved dangerous to his life. In a word, he died of joy.
The sorrow of the elder brother could better be imagined than described. He saw again his lost brother, after having given up, as it were, all hopes of meeting him. He had not even asked him his adventures. That he should be snatched away by the cruel hand of death seemed unbearable to him. He wept and wailed, took the corpse on his lap, sat under a tree, and wetted it with tears. But there was no hope of his dead brother coming to life again.
The elder brother was a devout worshipper of Gaṇapati.[1] That was a Friday, a day very sacred to that god. The elder brother took the corpse to the nearest Gaṇêśa[2] temple and called upon him. The god came, and asked him what he wanted. “My poor brother is dead and gone; and this is
