Because of the fault of royal misdeeds committed in the hollows at the base of palm trees, I was reborn as a mongoose, suffering from leprosy for nine long years. For another eight years, O goddess, I lived as a cow in Saurashtra, enduring the roughness of wicked people and the playful commands of ignorant cowherds. Once, as a bird, I was caught in an enemy’s snare amidst the forest meadows. I suffered greatly, but eventually broke free—just as, now, these desires are being severed from me. I experienced the world as a bee, resting in the lap of a lotus, secretly enjoying the pollen within unopened buds. I wandered with a deer of beautiful eyes among lofty mountain peaks and lovely forest clearings, only to be struck in the vital parts by a hunter. In all eight directions, I beheld the ocean’s waves carrying me along, accompanied by the bursting of fish, the neighing of horses, and the striking of turtles. I drank on the shore of a leathery river, singing with a sweet voice. There, in delightful union, I enjoyed freely, surrounded by the good and virtuous. In the groves of palm and tamala trees, with a woman of restless face and eyes, I gazed upon my beloved, intoxicated by the agitations of her glances. With lotus-like thighs, beautiful as streams of flowing gold, the divine bees—the gods—were delighted by the celestial nymph of the heavenly lake. On jeweled and golden ground, strewn with rubies and pearls within the wish-fulfilling forest of Mount Meru, I experienced union with a youthful companion. For a long time, I remained like a tortoise in the caves along the ocean’s shore, surrounded by waves and echoing groves. I played as a royal swan, swinging on the stalks of lotuses, in the gentle lake breeze, amid moving clusters of leaves. I watched the gentle swaying of grass-blade cradles and saw a weary mosquito lying helplessly with its mate. On the trembling, wave-tossed waters, kissed by dancing ripples, I wandered with the young water-vine among mountain streams. Overcome by passion in the fragrant halls of Gandhamadana and Mandara, the young Vidyadhara fell at her feet. Tormented by longing, I lay for a long time on beds sprinkled with camphor, tossed about like moonlight reflected on mirrors. With my mind bewildered, rising and falling, and my limbs disturbed by the countless forms of suffering experienced through many wombs, I was swept along by the swift current of the long river of worldly existence, driven irresistibly by the wind of fate. From the solid core of adamantine strength, from the dense wall of the cosmic egg extending over millions of yojanas, how did both of you emerge? Where is the cosmic egg, where its wall, and where is that adamantine solidity? Surely, O goddess, you both remain within the inner sky of the royal palace. In that very mountain village, in that very house, the brahmin named Vasiṣṭha enjoys his sovereignty. That very pavilion, that empty space, he experienced as the earth surrounded by the four oceans. On that seat of earth, which is the very essence of space, he and Arundhatī experienced the royal city and palace. There, one called Līlā arose, and by her, knowledge was worshipped; together with knowledge, she leapt beyond into the wondrous and delightful sky. Within the space of a hand’s breadth, in the very interior of the house, she reached another cosmic egg, a mountain, and the palace of Indra. He departed from the cosmic egg and returned to his own house, just as a man lying in bed moves from one dream into another. All this is merely a manifestation of consciousness, nothing but space; there is no cosmic egg, no world, no walls or distance. Only his own mind shines forth, and for both, it is equally enchanting. Where is the cosmic egg, where is the cycle of existence, when all arises from mere impressions? This space of knowledge is indeed unobstructed and infinite; whatever is stirred by one's own mind appears, just as wind moves by the force of vibration. The space of consciousness is unborn and peaceful, always and everywhere; through mind alone, the world appears, manifesting itself within itself. For one who is awakened, this is emptier than space; for one who is not awakened, it is as solid and immovable as a mountain of adamant. Just as, in a dream, a radiant city appears while one is at home, so too, within the essence of consciousness, this unreal world shines brightly. As water appears in a mirage, and gold seems to take the form of a bracelet, so too, this unreal world appears real, and visibility arises within the self. Thus, as the two maidens reflected, graceful in form, they departed from their house and stepped outside with charming, measured steps. Unseen by the people of the village, they gazed ahead at the mountain, its caves kissed by the sky and its peaks touched by the sun’s orb. The mountain was covered with a wondrous blanket of forests, blooming with various colors, alive with the songs of birds and the stirring of many waterfalls. There were clusters of marvelous blossoms, clouds tinged with saffron, and flocks of birds resting on the tips of mica rocks. The banks of the rivers were hidden by wide-spreading sāravañjula trees, and the wind played among unfinished rocks, ravines, and dancing creepers. Clouds, like masses of flowers, veiled the sky, and rainwater gathered in hollows, while long rivers carried clusters of shining pearls. The wind shook the ranks of moving trees and forests, stirring the edges of the directions, and the shade from the dense woods at the forest’s edge brought constant coolness. Then, those two maidens beheld for themselves that mountain village, as if a fragment of heaven had fallen from the sky.