The merchant, having been cast out by his own family, anxiously inquired about their welfare. He wondered, “Is there well-being or misfortune in their home now? How are they faring? Are my sons of good conduct, or have they strayed?” His heart ached with longing for those who had once been his own. He then reflected aloud, “Those greedy ones—my very sons, my wife, and others—who drove me away for the sake of wealth, does my mind still feel affection for them?” The pain of betrayal was fresh, yet he could not deny the love that still lingered. He confessed, “It is just as you have said—your words echo my own thoughts. But what can I do? My mind does not become hard-hearted.” Even though he had been rejected by those who were blinded by greed and had abandoned the bonds of kinship, his heart remained attached to his wife, his family, and his kin. In his bewilderment, he turned to the wise one and said, “O wise one, I do not understand this, even though I know it: why does the mind remain inclined with affection toward relatives, even when they are unworthy?” The merchant sighed deeply, distressed by the affection he could not suppress. “Because of them, I sigh and feel distress; what can I do, since my mind is not harsh toward those who show me no affection?” Meanwhile, the king, who had also lost everything, joined the merchant. Together, the two approached a great sage. One was the merchant named Samadhi, and the other, the best of kings. Having greeted the sage with the respect he deserved, both the merchant and the king sat down and began to converse on various matters. The king addressed the sage, “Revered sir, I wish to ask you something—please tell me this: why does my mind remain attached to sorrow, even though it is not under my control? Even though I have lost my kingdom and all its parts, why does the sense of ‘mine’ persist in me, as if I were ignorant, though I know the truth, O best of sages?” The king pointed to the merchant and said, “He has been deceived by his sons, abandoned by his wife and servants, and forsaken by his own people; yet, even so, his heart remains attached to them. In this way, both he and I are deeply afflicted; though we see the faults in these objects, our minds are still drawn by attachment.” He then asked, “O greatly fortunate one, what is this delusion that arises even for the wise? Why does this bewilderment of discernment, this folly, occur to me and to him?” The sage replied, “All beings possess knowledge regarding objects, O greatly fortunate one, and yet, the objects themselves appear to each being in different ways. Some living beings are blind by day, others are blind by night; and some, both by day and by night, perceive equally. It is true that humans are knowledgeable, but they are not unique in this; for indeed, all creatures—cattle, birds, wild animals, and others—possess knowledge. The knowledge that humans possess, and that which belongs to animals and birds—whatever is similar between humans and them, and whatever is distinct, is likewise found in both.” He continued, “Even though knowledge exists, look at these moths, drawn to the flames, who, out of delusion, pursue the fire for its taste, and, though tormented by hunger, are destroyed. Humans, like tigers among men, are attached to their children with desire; out of greed, they seek reciprocation—do you not see this in them as well?” “Yet, caught in the whirlpool of attachment and cast into the pit of delusion by the power of the great Māyā, which sustains the world, they remain thus. Therefore, there is no cause for astonishment here; by the Yoga-nidrā of the Lord of the universe, by the great Māyā of Hari, the world is thus deluded. Even the minds of the wise, O Devi, are forcibly drawn by that Blessed Goddess; the great Māyā bestows delusion upon them. By her, this entire universe, both animate and inanimate, is brought forth; when she is gracious, she grants boons and becomes the means of liberation for people. She is the supreme knowledge, eternal, the cause of liberation; and she herself is also the cause of bondage in worldly existence, the sovereign of all sovereigns.” Hearing this, the king asked with reverence, “O revered one! Who is that goddess whom you call Mahāmāyā? How did she arise, and what are her deeds, O twice-born? What is the nature of that goddess, what is her essence, and from where did she originate? I wish to hear all this from you, foremost among knowers of Brahman.” The sage replied, “She is eternally the embodiment of the universe, and by her, all this is pervaded; yet, her origin is recounted in many ways—listen to it from me. Whenever it is necessary for the accomplishment of the gods’ purposes, she manifests; though eternal, she is said to be born in the world at such times.” He then began to recount her story: “When, at the end of the cosmic cycle, the Lord Viṣṇu, having spread out the serpent Śeṣa, reclined in yogic slumber upon the single ocean that was the world, two terrible demons, renowned as Madhu and Kaiṭabha, born from the earwax of Viṣṇu, rose up, intent on killing Brahmā. Brahmā, the lord of creatures, seated in the lotus arising from Viṣṇu’s navel, saw those fierce demons and Viṣṇu himself deep in sleep. With focused mind, he praised that Yogic Sleep, who dwelt in the eyes of Hari, in order to awaken Hari.” The sage described how Brahmā praised the Lady of the Universe, the Sustainer of the world, the one who brings about creation and destruction, the divine Sleep of Viṣṇu, the incomparable power of the Lord. He addressed her as Svāhā, Svadhā, the Vaṣaṭ call, the essence of sound, the immortal nectar, the imperishable and eternal one, established as the threefold measure of speech. He called her the eternal, unuttered half-syllable, beyond articulation; the twilight, the Savitri hymn, the supreme Mother. The sage continued, “By you alone is all this sustained; by you this universe is created; by you, O Goddess, this is protected, and you always bring about its dissolution. At creation you are the form of creation, in preservation you are the form of sustenance; likewise, at the end you are the form of dissolution of this universe, O embodiment of the world. You are the great knowledge, the great illusion, the great wisdom, the great memory; you are also the great delusion, the great Goddess, the supreme Lady. You are the primal nature of all, manifesting the three qualities; you are the night of time, the great night, and the dreadful night of delusion. You are prosperity, you are sovereignty, you are modesty, you are intelligence marked by understanding; you are bashfulness, nourishment, contentment, peace, and indeed forbearance.” Thus did the sage reveal the mystery of Mahāmāyā, the great Goddess, whose power binds even the wise, yet who is also the source of liberation and the very essence of the universe.