In the depths of her sorrow, Lila called upon the goddess Jñapti, the divine embodiment of pure knowledge. Responding to Lila’s heartfelt plea, the radiant goddess appeared before her and spoke gently, “Have you remembered me, child? Why do you grieve? In this world, delusions arise like the mirage of water—empty and vain.” Lila, still burdened by longing, replied, “Mother, where is my husband? What is he doing, and what is he like? Take me to him; I cannot bear this loneliness.” Jñapti, full of compassion, explained, “Know that there are three kinds of space: the space of the mind, the space of consciousness, and physical space. Among these, the space of consciousness is the most subtle, O beautiful one. This entire world is truly empty, and within it, the distinctions of ‘I’ and ‘you’ exist only as appearances of the perceiving self—mere forms of diversity without real substance. The world is merely imagined, composed of appearances, and is nothing but a manifestation of awareness, devoid of any spatial measure or actual content. That which is the essence of the space of consciousness is swiftly perceived and experienced, even though it does not truly exist, due to the contemplation of its oneness. When, in the instant it takes to move from one place to another, awareness remains in the middle, know, O beautiful one, that this is the space of consciousness. If you reach a state where all notions and intentions are completely dissolved, you will undoubtedly realize the supreme state which is the essence of all. This is attained only through the awareness of absolute non-existence; there is no other way. Through my grace, you will quickly reach it, O beautiful one.” Having thus spoken, the goddess departed to her own divine abode, leaving Lila absorbed in effortless, thought-free samadhi. In a moment, Lila abandoned her body along with the cage of her inner faculties, like a bird soaring into the sky, leaving its nest behind. There, she beheld her own lord, the protector of the earth, standing in the royal hall among many kings. He sat upon the throne, praised with shouts of “Victory! Long live!” and was attentively engaged in addressing the affairs of many assemblies. The royal palace was adorned with clusters of banners, and at the eastern gate stood countless groups of sages, brahmins, and seers. At the southern gate, an innumerable assembly of women gathered, while at the western gate, a multitude of kings and great rulers assembled. At the northern gate, there was a throng of chariots, elephants, and horses, and the southern route was managed by a single trusted minister. The eastern region’s affairs were conducted by the lord of Karnata, and the entire northern frontier of foreigners was administered by the ruler of Saurashtra. All the western provinces were governed by the lord of Malava, and the southern seacoast was enlivened by envoys from Lanka. The eastern seacoast was described by the sage Mahendra as reaching the sky, and the northern seacoast was recounted in detail by messengers as mysterious. On the western shore, in a city renowned as the place where the sun sets, stood an ancient palace crowded with countless kings and their retinues. The avenues leading to the sacrificial grounds resounded with the victorious tones of musical instruments, and the caves echoed with the jubilant clamor of bards and singers. The sky was filled with the rising sounds of singing and instrumental music, and clouds of dust, stirred by horses, elephants, and chariots, hung thick like heavy clouds. Mountains were perfumed with the fragrance of flowers, camphor, and incense smoke; everywhere, various edicts and decrees were established for the order of the entire realm. The assembly was adorned with attendants dressed in garments as white as camphor and ocean foam, and its radiance—like a pillar between earth and sky—surpassed even the brilliance of the sun. The king was wholly engaged in grand undertakings, surrounded by master architects intent on constructing many different cities. Then, that great and wondrous assembly, celestial and made of sky itself, descended like a misty forest in the heavens. As it moved there, none of the people saw it before them, for it was created by another’s imagination, like a woman seen only in dreams. In the same way, they did not see Lila moving ahead, as she was fashioned by another’s imagination, just as one does not see one’s own city while in the midst of it. She saw all those who had gone ahead, just as a king, upon arriving at another city, sees those who have arrived together with him. She saw the same children with the same appearance and conduct, the same young women, the same ministers as before. She saw the same kings on earth, the same scholars, the same close companions, the same servants, and others of that kind. Then she saw other new scholars, friends, various officials, and other citizens as well. She saw the midday hour, the day, the directions overwhelmed by intense heat, the sky with the moon and sun, and the sounds of clouds, water, and wind. She saw the earth adorned with lakes, rivers, mountains, cities, and towns, crowded with various cities, forests, and villages. She saw the king, twice eight years old, freed from previous old age, the former people, and all the village dwellers as before. Seeing them, the lady became overwhelmed by anxiety, thinking, “All the residents of this city have suffered greatly and died.” Then, regaining awareness, she entered her former inner chambers, and there, in the middle of the night, she saw everything just as before. She saw her husband in the form of a corpse, covered with a heap of flowers, and the attendants lying there, all overcome by sleep. Then she began to awaken her companions, who were seized by sleep, and said, “I am greatly distressed; let me be taken to the royal court.