In a realm adorned with exquisite beauty, the earth itself was covered in soft, radiant grasses—each blade shimmering like precious gems. Waterfalls cascaded nearby, their sparkling droplets catching the light as they fell. Majestic mountains rose in the distance, their rocks studded with gold and rubies, and upon these heights dwelled divine sages in their tranquil hermitages, places made holy by merit and devotion. Within this land, serene ponds bloomed with pure white lotuses and smiling water-lilies, while the forest clearings burst with blossoms, and beds of blue lotuses flourished in full glory. Amid such splendor, joy and play abounded: riddles and stories were shared, and handfuls of clever letter-games entertained the mind. Board games and secret dice contests brought laughter, as did dramas, tales, and verses, and intricate patterns traced with dots. The people reveled in the many dialects and customs of their cities and villages, weaving garlands, wreaths, and chains of flowers, adorning themselves with ornaments, and moving with playful grace. Vessels brimmed with delights for every sense. Tender betel leaves, areca nut, and camphor were chewed with pleasure; playful embraces and the gentle motions of mounting swings filled the air with delight. At home, swings were decked with flowers, and couples took turns in the rhythm of swinging one another, sometimes hiding together in bowers of blossoming creepers, their bodies concealed among the fragrant vines. They journeyed by boat, chariot, elephant, horse, and camel, indulging in playful sports in the water, sprinkling each other with laughter and joy. There were dances and songs, artistic performances, and vigorous tandava dances; music filled the air, mingling with lively conversations, the sounds of the lute and drum. All this unfolded in gardens, along riverbanks, beneath the trees, on forest paths, within the inner chambers of great mansions—everywhere, in countless ways, life blossomed. Amid this abundance lived a young woman, raised in comfort, cherished and devoted to her husband. One day, her mind turned to thoughts of auspiciousness. She reflected: “My husband, lord of the world, is dearer to me than life itself. He shines with the vigor of youth—how might he become ageless and immortal? With him, whose loving embrace lifts my heart, how might I, his beloved, freely delight with him in these flower-filled houses for hundreds of years?” She pondered further: “Surely, by gradual effort—through asceticism, recitation, and striving—one may become, like the moon among kings, ageless and deathless. I must ask those who know.” Resolute, she approached the twice-born, those wise in learning, asceticism, and wisdom, and inquired: “How can death be avoided? How does one attain immortality?” With due honor, she questioned the Brahmins again and again: “O revered ones, by what means is immortality gained?” They replied: “O goddess, through all forms of asceticism and recitation, whether accomplished or not, many results are attained—but immortality is never among them.” Hearing this, the young woman grew anxious, fearful of separation from her beloved. She resolved swiftly: “If, by fate, my husband should die before me, then, freed from sorrow, I will abide peacefully in my own self. But if, after a thousand years, my husband dies first, I will act so that his soul does not depart from our house. When his soul leaves the body and dwells in my pure inner chamber, I will remain there, always visible to him, dwelling as I please.” With determination, she began her quest that very day. She worshipped the goddess Sarasvati, embodiment of knowledge, through recitation, fasting, and discipline, seeking to win her favor. Without telling her husband, she undertook severe austerities as prescribed by the scriptures. At the end of every three-night period, she completed her fast and devoted herself to the worship of gods, Brahmins, teachers, wise men, and scholars. Constantly she bathed, gave in charity, performed austerities, and studied; her body was ever diligent, fulfilling all duties of faith and good conduct, enduring great hardship. She pleased her husband in every way, at the right times and in the right manner, though he remained unaware of her true intentions. For a hundred periods of three nights, she remained steadfast, practicing austerity with unwavering effort. After these hundred cycles, having worshipped the sacred image, the blessed goddess Gauri—mistress of speech—became pleased and spoke to her: “By your uninterrupted austerity and surpassing devotion to your husband, I am fully satisfied with you, child. Receive the boon you desire.” The young woman, radiant as the moon and dispelling the afflictions of birth, old age, and death, bowed and replied: “Mother, O mother of the three worlds, protect this wretched one. Grant me these two boons I now request. First, let the soul of my departed husband not leave his own inner palace. Second, O great goddess, whenever I desire to see you for the sake of a boon, grant me your vision at that time.” The Mother of the world replied, “So be it,” and vanished in an instant, like a wave rising and disappearing in the ocean. The royal queen, her cherished deity satisfied, was filled with joy, like a doe delighted by a sweet song. Yet, even as the fierce wheel of time—its sharp edges marking days, years, and moments—continued to turn, carrying all within its endless motion, her resolve held firm. At that moment, the consciousness of her husband entered her, becoming visible at once, just as sap appears in a dry leaf. When his body was shattered in battle and lay dead in the inner chamber, the one who had dwelled there, like a waterless lotus, withered utterly. Her lips, once as tender as petals, grew stiff from the heat and poison of her breath; she entered the state of death herself, like the slopes of Malaya scorched and dried.