Within that very pavilion, in the midst of emptiness, he perceived the entire earth, encircled by the four oceans, as if the vast world itself unfolded before him in that open space. Upon this seat of earth—an essence distilled from space itself—he and Arundhatī experienced the grandeur of a royal city and the splendor of a royal palace, all within that seat. There, a presence named Līlā arose. Through her, knowledge was honored and worshipped; and together with knowledge, she soared beyond, entering the wondrous, delightful expanse of the sky. In the space no bigger than a hand’s breadth, right within the heart of the house, she reached another cosmic egg, a towering mountain, and even the palace of Indra himself. Then, just as a man lying in bed moves from one dream into another, he left behind the cosmic egg and returned to his own house. All these experiences, he realized, were but manifestations of consciousness—nothing but space. There was no real cosmic egg, no world, no walls or distances—only the shining radiance of his own mind. For both of them, this vision was equally enchanting; what need was there to speak of cosmic eggs or cycles of existence, when all that appeared arose solely from impressions within? This space of knowledge is truly unobstructed and infinite; whatever is stirred by the mind appears, just as wind is set in motion by vibration. The space of consciousness is unborn and ever peaceful, everywhere and always; it is only through the mind that the world seems to arise, manifesting itself within itself. For one who is awakened, this is emptier than space itself; for one who is not, it is as solid and immovable as a mountain of adamant. Just as a radiant city appears in a dream while one remains at home, so too, within the essence of consciousness, does this unreal world shine forth in brilliance. As water shimmers in a mirage, or as gold seems to take the form of a bracelet, so too does this unreal world appear real, and all visibility arises from within the self. As the two maidens reflected upon these mysteries, they, graceful in form, stepped out from their house. With charming, measured steps, they left, unseen by the people of the village, their gaze fixed ahead upon the mountain whose caves were kissed by the sky and whose peaks were touched by the sun’s orb. That mountain was draped in a wondrous blanket of forests, blooming in a riot of colors and alive with birdsong, stirred by the music of many waterfalls. Clusters of marvelous blossoms adorned it, clouds tinged with saffron floated above, and flocks of birds rested upon the shining tips of mica rocks. The banks of all the rivers were hidden by the wide-spreading sāravañjula trees, and the wind played among unfinished rocks, ravines, and the dancing creepers. Clouds, like masses of flowers, veiled the sky, and rainwater collected in hollows, while long rivers carried clusters of shining pearls. The wind shook the ranks of moving trees and forests, stirring the very edges of the directions, and the cool shade from dense woods at the forest’s edge brought constant refreshment. The two maidens beheld for themselves a mountain village, as if a fragment of heaven had fallen to earth. Channels and streams carried the full waters of lotus ponds, where birds with curved beaks sang, and the hollows and caves echoed with their calls. The groves resounded with the deep lowing of herds of cows, fierce and thunderous, mingled with the humming of bees in dense thickets, all cooled by shade and thick winds. Sunbeams scarcely entered, blocked by mist and dust, while the spaces between dense clusters of blossoming flowers were shrouded in shade. Broad, white waterfalls poured over rocks and boulders, recalling the splendor of the ocean of milk churned and cast aside by the mountains. Courtyards were crowded with great fruit-laden trees, shining under the weight of heavy clusters, as if gathering a wealth of flowers. The trees, shaken by swift, trembling winds that produced a jingling sound, seemed overflowing with sap, scattering a great rain of flowers. Birds—some hidden, some cautious—made soft sounds, startled by the sudden drip of water from rocky peaks, yet unafraid. The river was filled with birds whose movements followed the swirling eddies, eager to taste the spray at the edges of leaping waves. Children, startled by the sight of crows resting on tall palm trees, scattered pieces of sugarcane chewed and discarded by the elders. Village boys, adorned with garlands of flowers and clad in garments made of blossoms, sought coolness in the shade at the edge of dense groves of kadamba, neem, and jujube trees. Village beauties, their ears filled with the hum of bees, wandered the lanes in linen garments, weakened by hunger. Desiring solitude, their ears dulled and troubled by the loud conversations and the crashing sounds of river waves. Children, their faces and hands smeared with curd, lips adorned with garlands of flowers, naked, marked with cow-dung and mud, filled the courtyards with commotion. Sandbanks were marked by lines drawn with water, as the waves, swinging the creepers on the green riverbanks, carried them away. Bees, sluggish and intoxicated by the rich fragrance of curd and milk, moved about, while village boys, their garments soaked with tears, begged for their morning meal. Women laughed, their hair disheveled and distracted by play, and children, angry from being splashed with cow-dung water, made circles with their hands. Courtyards were scattered with the feathers of peacocks, the wings of crows, and the tails of cows, and the entrances of houses, streets, and courtyards were strewn with baskets of jasmine flowers. Beside the houses stood trees in full bloom, their flowers falling every morning to carpet the ground up to the ankles. There were groves of water lilies and antelopes, clusters of wild grass where young deer slept, and thickets where bees hummed among the guñjā creepers. Here and there, calves twitched their single ears, and bees, having tasted the remains of curds left by cowherds, moved about with a gentle hum. Thus, the two maidens beheld the world in all its vividness—yet, as they had come to understand, all this was but a wondrous play of consciousness, shining within itself.