In that wondrous realm, there appeared river-like filaments and slender stalks, glistening with drops of dew, while bees wandered through the night and swarms of beings, like mosquitoes, filled the air. The place was alive with clusters of inner threads, its surface marked by holes wrought by the gods, and streams of water coursed through it, shining with the radiance of daylight. It was moist with sap, and swans drifted in the sky above. This domain served as a vessel for the gathering of night, with lotus-fibers reigning as the lord of serpents, sunk deep in the mire of the netherworld. At times, its vast expanse would cause the ocean itself to tremble, shaking the quarters of the world; below, it was a thorn to the endless hosts of demons and titans who dwelt among the serpents. At the heart of this realm lay the great seed, wrapped in the tender creeper of demon-wounds—a source of many seeds, delighting in union, and pervading the mountain-lord Earth. Within this expanse, the famed region of Jambudvīpa spread wide, its central pericarp prominent, rivers branching like filaments, and cities and villages rising as stamens. Adorned by seven beautiful seeds—lofty family-mountains—its sky was spanned by the great central seed, the towering Meru at its heart. It was a cluster of lakes, icy droplets, forests, and wild herds; within its own circle of rays dwelled multitudes of people, gathered like clouds. This land, measured by hundreds of yojanas, was surrounded on all sides by seas, swarms of bees, and the four quarters lying at rest. It rested upon the eight petals of the directions, alive with the hum of lotuses and bees, and was divided ninefold by the nine brother-kings. Spread across a hundred thousand yojanas, dense with dust and made steady by the arrangement of many regions, it was perpetually moistened by dew. Beyond this continent, twice its size, lay a ring formed by the salt ocean, encircling it outwardly like a curved forearm. Further still, twice that size, was a ring shaped like a bracelet, filled with the waters of Śākadvīpa, spreading like the tendrils of the world. Beyond this, again twice the size, it was surrounded by a ring of the fresh, cool milk-ocean. Beyond that, yet again twice the measure, a ring adorned with many peoples was known as Kuśadvīpa. Yet further, again twice as large, it was surrounded by a ring of the curd-ocean, ever nourishing the hosts of gods. Then came the ring of Krauñcadvīpa, of equal measure, encircled by Khātakhada, like a newly built royal city. Beyond that was a ring of the ghee-ocean, and beyond that, the Śalmalidvīpa, filled with immortals. Next, a line of the great ocean of the gods, white as flowers, appeared, and with the body of Śeṣa, it seemed as if the very form of Hari was manifest. Then came the line of the Gomedaka island, of the same measure, and likewise a line of sugarcane, pure as the slopes of the Himalayas. After that, a ring of Puṣkara island, twice as large, and finally, a ring of the sweet-water ocean of equal measure. Among these seven oceanic lines, in the southwestern direction, the region was marked by droplets of blazing fire from submarine volcanoes, like burning fuel amid the waters. Then, ten times a crore in extent, shone a realm with the radiance of heated gold, curved and splendid, fit for the enjoyment of celestial beings. Thus, according to the measure of the seven oceanic islands and golden earths, the world extended ten times greater below, reaching the realm of Pātāla. There, a deeply embedded ring rose high, resembling a mass of caverns, winding along the path to Pātāla, possessing a terrifying nature. From all this, the sky stretched ten times higher, covering all four directions, formidable with masses of caverns. It was adorned with garlands of blue lotuses, half-withered and dark, set with jeweled peaks, lilies, lotuses, and water-lilies. Encircling all was the vast mountain range of Lokāloka, its lofty summits like the twisted locks of the fortune of the three worlds. Beyond all this, and ten times greater in essence, lay a forest named “the wanderer of unknown beings,” which sheltered all. Further still, tenfold greater, it spread in all directions like pure water filling the sky. Beyond that, again tenfold in measure, it was enveloped by a mass of blazing flames, capable of melting even Meru and other mountains. Beyond, yet again tenfold greater, it could move even the immovable Meru and the rest as easily as blades of grass or dust. All this was surrounded on every side by wind, which, though able to split mountains and carry fire, remained silent in its emptiness. Beyond, tenfold greater, it was encircled on all sides by the sky, empty and of a single nature. Then, with a hundred yojanas in extent, dense and solid, the world was covered by a fragment of the cosmic egg, adorned with a golden solar crest. Thus, having observed the world—created by the ocean, great mountains, guardians of the quarters, cities of the gods, sky, and earth—she saw her own home’s chamber upon the earth. Then, the two siddha women beheld their own house—a pavilion invisible to the world, a seat of Brahman. It was filled with anxious servants, the faces of women wet with tears, its structure mostly ruined, resembling a lotus whose petals had withered. The house was like a city whose festivals had vanished, like the ocean at the end of Agastya’s influence, like a garden scorched by summer, or a tree struck by lightning. It was as a cloud torn by wind, a lotus burned by frost, a lamp with little oil—causing distress to all who looked upon it.