After their initial meeting, Janaka led Śuka into the inner chambers of the palace. For seven days, however, the king did not present himself before the sage. During this time, Janaka arranged for Śuka—whose countenance radiated the calm beauty of the moon—to be attended by graceful women, served with delicious food, and surrounded by every manner of pleasure and enjoyment the palace could offer. Yet, for Śuka, son of Vyāsa, these pleasures were as sorrows to his mind. None of them could move him, just as a gentle breeze cannot shake a mountain deeply anchored to the earth. He remained there, tranquil and pure, silent and inwardly joyful, complete in himself like the full moon shining in the night sky. At last, King Janaka, perceiving the true nature of Śuka’s detachment, had him brought forth. Upon seeing him, Janaka bowed deeply, his heart overflowing with joy. Having fulfilled every worldly duty and attained all that could be desired, the king welcomed Śuka with reverence and asked, “O revered teacher, what is it that you seek here? Please tell me.” He continued, “O teacher, how has this display of worldly existence arisen, and how does true peace come about? Please explain this to me clearly and without delay.” Thus questioned by Janaka, Śuka replied just as his noble father Vyāsa had once explained to him. He said, “I myself discerned these truths through my own understanding, and when my father questioned me, I answered only this much. O best of speakers, you too have spoken this very meaning, and it is exactly what is found in the scriptures. Just as this world, arising from one’s own imagination, is dissolved when that imagination ceases, so is the certainty that the burned-out world is empty of essence.” Śuka then added, “Therefore, O mighty-armed one, tell me truly and purely: from you my mind finds rest—let it not wander in the world. There is no higher or further certainty than this, O sage; you have known this yourself, and have also heard it again from your teacher. Here, only the undivided consciousness-self exists, not anything else; one is bound by the force of thought, and freed when thought ceases. Whoever knows this clearly, that great soul gains dispassion from all enjoyments and from all that is seen here. And for you as well, O mighty hero, your mind has attained dispassion from enjoyments and from long-lasting afflictions; what else is there for you to ask?” He continued, “Such fullness has not arisen even for your father, who remains immersed in vast austerity and is a great treasure of all-knowingness, as it has for you. I am even greater than Vyāsa, though I am his disciple and son; yet, because your desire for enjoyment is so diminished, you surpass even me here. You have attained everything to be attained, with a mind fully complete; you do not fall into the visible world, O Brahman, you are liberated—abandon delusion.” Thus instructed by the great-souled Janaka, Śuka rested silently in the pure, supreme reality. Free from sorrow, fear, and fatigue, indifferent and with all doubts severed, he ascended the flawless summit of Mount Meru to meditate. There, for a thousand years, he remained absorbed in deep meditation, without conceptualization, like a lamp that has run out of oil, resting within himself. With all traces of mental activity and impurity gone, pure in his own stainless self, the great soul entered the state of unity, like a drop of water merging into the boundless ocean. O Rāma, for the son of Vyāsa, the cleansing of mere intellect is used only as much as is needed, and only for that purpose. By this, everything is known, O lord of the earth; pleasures do not delight him, just as diseases do not please the wise. This is truly the mark of one whose mind has known what is to be known: that all arrays of pleasures no longer delight him. By the imagination of enjoyment, bondage rooted in unreality becomes firm; but when that same imagination is pacified, bondage in the world is loosened. Rāma, the thinning of desires is called liberation by the wise; the firmness of desire for objects is called bondage. Most people, even after approaching the knowledge of the Self, soon again develop aversion to sense objects, though only with great difficulty. He who truly sees is wise; he who knows both the knower and the known is learned; to such a great soul, enjoyments do not taste sweet, even if forced upon him. He for whom, without any cause such as fame or wealth, pleasures on earth no longer appeal—he is called liberated while living. As long as the knowable has not been realized, O dear one, so long does a being not develop dispassion for sense objects, just as a creeper does not grow in a desert. Therefore, O descendant of Raghu, know that one who has realized the knowable is such that these unpleasing fields of enjoyment no longer delight him. Whatever Rāma learns as true reality, upon hearing it directly, brings repose to his mind. The mind of Rāma seeks only the repose found in pure, undivided being, just as the beauty of autumn seeks rest in water. Here, for the repose of the mind of the great-souled Raghava, let the illustrious sage Vasiṣṭha speak his reasoning. He is the lord and family preceptor of all the Raghu dynasty; ever all-knowing, all-seeing, and perceiving the three times—past, present, and future—with flawless clarity. O Vasiṣṭha, revered one, do you recall what you once taught, for the sake of ending enmity between us and for the welfare of the great souls? On the summit of Niṣadha mountain, amidst the cluster of pines, the blessed one, Padmabhū (Brahmā), imparted abundant knowledge to the sages. By that knowledge, O wise Brahman, when one is endowed with discernment, this tendency is transformed; the worldly person surely attains tranquility, just as darkness is dispelled by sunlight.