Let us journey through the wondrous expanse described in these sacred verses. First, the boundaries of the world are traced: a line encircles the mighty Puṣkara island, twice its size, and then another marks the sweet-water ocean, measured with care. Among the seven oceanic lines, in the southwestern direction, droplets of blazing fire burst forth from submarine volcanoes, burning like fuel within water. Beyond this, there stretches a region ten times a crore in extent, shining with the radiance of heated gold, curved and splendid, fit for the enjoyment of celestial beings. Following the measure of the seven oceanic islands and golden earths, the world extends tenfold below, reaching into the realm of Pātāla. There, a deeply embedded ring towers high, resembling a mass of caverns, winding along the path to Pātāla, possessing a terrifying nature. Above, ten times higher still, the sky encompasses all four directions, formidable with its own masses of caverns. This sky is adorned with a garland of blue lotuses, half-withered and bearing the form of darkness, and is embellished with jeweled peaks, lilies, lotuses, and water-lilies. Encircling it all is the vast mountain range of Lokāloka, whose lofty summits resemble the twisted locks of fortune for the three worlds. Beyond this, tenfold greater in essence, lies a forest called 'the wanderer of unknown beings,' which protects all. Beyond even this, and tenfold greater in essence, the world spreads in all directions like pure water filling the sky. Further still, enveloped by a mass of blazing flames capable of melting even Meru and other mountains, the world’s boundaries are set. Beyond, another tenfold expansion moves even the immovable Meru and others as easily as blades of grass or dust. All is surrounded by wind, which, though capable of splitting mountains and carrying fire, remains silent due to its emptiness. Beyond this, tenfold greater again, the world is encircled by the sky, empty and of one nature. Then, with a hundred yojanas in extent, dense and solid, the world is covered by a fragment of the cosmic egg, adorned with a golden solar crest. Having observed all these—the world created by the ocean, great mountains, guardians of the quarters, cities of the gods, sky, and earth—a woman saw the chamber of her own home upon the earth. Then, two siddha women beheld their own house, a pavilion invisible to the world, a seat of Brahman. Inside, anxious servants and women with faces wet with tears mourned; the structure was mostly ruined, resembling a lotus whose petals had withered. The house felt like a city whose festivals had vanished, like the ocean after Agastya’s influence, a garden scorched by summer, or a tree struck by lightning. It was like a cloud torn by wind, a lotus burned by frost, a lamp with little oil, causing distress to those who looked upon it. Struck by the loss of its lord, the house had become like a forest of old trees, leaves withered by the fading radiance of faces near death, like a region made harsh by the retreat of rain, covered in dust. Then, through long practice of pure knowledge, the beautiful woman became endowed with true resolve and true desire, like a goddess. She thought, “Let these relatives of mine see me now, appearing as an ordinary woman.” The household members saw the pair of women shining together, like Lakshmi and Gauri in a radiant abode. From head to toe, they were adorned with beautiful, fresh garlands, resembling the joyful woodland of springtime goddesses. They filled the entire village of medicinal plants with elixirs, giving coolness, delight, and comfort, like the rising of two moons. With glances from their long, waving, vine-like hair and restless eyes, they scattered clusters of jasmine flowers mixed with blue lotuses. The radiance of their bodies flowed like rivers filled with molten gold, making the forest shine as if it were turned to gold. With natural grace and playful beauty, Lakshmi’s form seemed to cross the waves of her own ocean of loveliness. With arms moving like vines and hands glowing red, she seemed to scatter a new golden forest of wish-fulfilling trees. With feet soft as tender flower buds and fresh leaves, untouched by the ground, resembling garlands of blooming lotus petals, she walked again. By the nectar of her gaze, she brought forth young shoots among the groves of dried palm and tamala trees, whose moonlike radiance had faded. Jyeshtha Sharma, having spoken “Salutations to the forest goddesses,” offered a handful of flowers and departed with his household. He placed the offering at the feet of those goddesses, like a shower of icy dew upon the lotuses of a pond. “May the forest goddesses be victorious, who have come to remove our suffering; for the noble, their own action is mostly for the protection of others.” The goddesses became affectionate toward the Brahmin couple, pillars of their lineage, hosts to all guests, and the foundation of the twice-born community. Yet sorrow lingered: “Today, our parents have left the house, along with sons, cattle, and kin, and gone to heaven; thus, the three worlds are empty for us.” Birds perched upon the tree scattered moment by moment; in the empty house, grieving for the dead, they lamented with sweet voices. The mountain wailed, overwhelmed by confused, rumbling echoes from its caves, thick streams of tears flowing down like rivers. Waterfalls, their garments loosened and breasts exposed, cried out as they collapsed, their hot sighs scattering them, and they wandered in utter emaciation in all directions. Thus, the world’s grandeur, sorrow, and beauty were revealed, as the goddesses and their kin moved through the tapestry of creation and loss.