She became bashful, her face lowering in modesty, embarrassed by the intimacy of their new union. Yet, even in her shyness, she could not help but continually drink in the lotus-like face of her beloved with her eyes. Reclining gracefully upon a bed of fragrant flowers and cool sandalwood, she was clothed in the finest garments. Her form was exquisite—her hips full and firm, her breasts plump and prominently raised. Her lips glowed like ripe bimba fruit, her nose was beautifully shaped, and she radiated charm and delight. A luminous aura surrounded her, enhancing her allure. At the parting of her hair, a shining vermilion mark glimmered. Her palms were the color of lotus petals, adorned with delicate, crescent-shaped nails. Her complexion was rosy, radiant as fresh red lac, and her nails gleamed like a cluster of moons, surpassing even the autumn moon in their beauty. Anklets set with the choicest jewels graced her feet, their gentle tinkling adding to her enchanting presence. Her hair was abundant, adorned with a garland of jasmine flowers, and her beauty was further enhanced by ornate earrings and exquisite ornaments. She wore bracelets, armlets, and conch-shaped ornaments, all made of precious jewels. Seeing her thus—graceful, lovely, virtuous, with beautiful teeth and pure in every way—Shankhachuda was captivated. He addressed her, saying, “Who are you, O beautiful and auspicious lady, bestower of all blessings? You, who delight in heavenly pleasures and sacred rivers, whose form is adorned with necklaces—who are you?” Hearing these words, the woman with lovely eyes, her heart filled with desire, replied. Tulasi spoke, saying, “I am an ascetic, residing here. But who are you? Go as you please. A woman, born in a noble family, alone in a secluded place, and virtuous—if approached by a lustful man born in a low family, devoid of understanding the scriptures of dharma, she must be cautious. Such a woman may appear sweet at first, but ultimately brings ruin to the man. In her heart, she is as sharp as the edge of a razor, though her words are always sweet. For her own purposes, she may be submissive to her master, but otherwise, she is unyielding.” She continued, “The Purāṇas describe the conduct of women as indeterminate. Who can say who is friend or enemy to those who are always seeking something new? Outwardly, she claims devotion to her own self, but covers herself with deceit, while inwardly longing for union. She is proud, becomes angry when deprived of pleasure, and is the root of quarrels. In her mind, she desires tasty food and cool water. She shows great affection for her son, but only when engaged in pleasure. The old man, incapable of intercourse, she considers an enemy and consumes him with her actions, just as a worm eats cow dung. She is ever deceitful in form, the abode of all faults, always a barrier on the path of austerity, and the lock on the door to liberation. She obstructs devotion to Hari and is the basket of all illusion. Her very nature is illusion, and she embodies false speech. She is a receptacle of all kinds of excrement, urine, and pus, always mixed with filth. The form of illusion, and those who are illusionists, were fashioned by the Creator in ancient times.” Having spoken thus, Tulasī and Nārada both became silent.