Just as a radiant city appears in a dream while one remains at home, so too does this world, though ultimately unreal, shine brilliantly within the very essence of consciousness. Like water shimmering in a mirage or gold taking the form of a bracelet, this world seems real to us, and all that is seen appears within the self, though its reality is but an appearance. With such reflections, two graceful maidens rose from contemplation and, leaving their home, stepped outside with charming and measured steps. Unseen by the people of their village, their eyes were drawn to the distant mountain, its caves reaching into the sky and its peaks kissed by the sun’s golden orb. The mountain was clothed in a wondrous blanket of forests, each tree blooming in a riot of colors, alive with singing birds and stirred by the cascading waters of many waterfalls. Everywhere, clusters of marvelous blossoms burst forth, clouds tinged with saffron drifted above, and flocks of birds perched on the glittering tips of mica rocks. Along the riverbanks, wide-spreading sāravañjula trees hid the shores from view, while the playful wind danced among unfinished rocks, ravines, and creepers that seemed to sway in delight. Like masses of flowers, clouds veiled the sky, and rainwater collected in hollows, while long rivers carried clusters of shining pearls in their currents. The wind shook the ranks of moving trees and forests, stirring even the edges of the directions, and the dense woods at the forest’s edge cast a constant, cooling shade. The two maidens beheld, with wonder, a mountain village before them, as if a piece of heaven itself had descended to earth. Channels and streams carried the full waters of lotus ponds, where birds with curved beaks sang, and the hollows and caves echoed their melodious calls. The groves resounded with the deep, thunderous lowing of herds of cows, the humming of bees, and the coolness brought by dense thickets and the shade of thick winds. Sunbeams barely entered, blocked by mist and dust, and the spaces between dense clusters of blossoming flowers were shrouded in shade. Broad, white waterfalls poured over rocks and boulders, recalling the churning of the ocean of milk by the mountains of old. Courtyards overflowed with great, fruit-laden trees, their branches shining under the weight of heavy clusters, as if gathering a treasure of flowers. The trees, shaken by swift, trembling winds that jingled through the leaves, seemed to overflow with sap, scattering a rain of blossoms everywhere. Birds, some hidden and some cautious, made soft sounds, startled by the sudden drip of water from rocky peaks, yet never truly afraid. The river teemed with birds following the swirling eddies, eager to taste the spray at the edge 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 themselves with garlands of flowers, their garments a patchwork of blossoms, resting in the cool 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 village lanes in linen garments, weakened by hunger. Some longed for solitude, their ears dulled and troubled by loud conversations and the crashing sounds of river waves. Children ran about, their faces and hands smeared with curd, lips adorned with flower garlands, naked and marked with cow-dung and mud, filling the courtyards with joyous commotion. Sandbanks bore lines drawn with water, while the waves swung creepers on the green riverbanks, carrying them away. Bees, sluggish and intoxicated by the rich fragrance of curd and milk, buzzed about, and village boys, their garments damp with tears, begged for their morning meal. Women laughed, their hair disheveled and distracted by play, while children, angry from being splashed with cow-dung water, made circles with their hands. Courtyards were scattered with peacock feathers, crow wings, and cow tails, while house entrances, streets, and courtyards were strewn with baskets of jasmine flowers. Beside the houses, trees in full bloom dropped their blossoms every morning, carpeting 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 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. In every house, the bees had dwindled, driven away, yet the mansions shone, adorned by blooming aśoka trees, their beauty like a vivid red dye. The trees remained ever moist, their leaves freshened by the constant spray of dew-laden winds, while kadamba buds and seven-leaved saptacchada clustered thickly together. Blossoming ketaka flowers entwined with masses of creepers, and the air resounded with the calls of birds among the broad-leaved canopies. Cool breezes flowed from windows and inner chambers, and the royal roads were purified by rows of full lotus ponds. Shaded by dense, unbroken foliage, cool and pure with fresh grass, every flower’s dewdrop reflected the stars above. The dwellings were ever cooled by showers of falling flowers and snow, adorned with wondrous clusters of blossoms, leaves, and lotus plants. The inner chambers and corridors, like the hidden spaces within a house, had ancient nooks concealed by clouds, illuminated by the lightning above, needing no other lamp. In one pavilion, the deep, echoing hum of wind in the caves resounded, while the palace was adorned with the moving necklaces of chakora birds, parrots, and deer. The wind, heavy with the fragrance of tender shoots and moist earth, began to sway the playful, trembling leaves. All around, the place was alive with the playful gatherings of larks and flocks of bees, and the mingled, lively calls of cuckoos and kokilas filled the air.