Across every city, the sound of drums rang out in triumphant proclamation: “Victory to King Sindhudeva, sovereign beneath the single royal umbrella!” With his head held high, Sindhu entered his capital, bearing himself like another Manu at the dawn of a new age, as if he were about to create fresh subjects for the world itself. People from all ten directions began to stream into Sindhu’s city, pouring in like treasures flowing into the ocean—elephants and horses arriving in great stables, adding to the city’s wealth and splendor. For a brief period, the ministers busied themselves, establishing regulations and decrees, marking each region and the entire realm with the order of law. Soon, across every land and city, order arose in all matters—life and death, honor and dishonor—just as discipline comes from Yama, the lord of order and restraint. In a single moment, the disturbances and confusions that had troubled the land faded away; the wild winds of calamity were calmed, and everything returned to its rightful course. The entire region, stretching across all ten directions, became gentle and tranquil, like the ocean of milk after its churning had ceased, once the mighty Mandara mountain was lifted away. Yet, even as gentle winds blew, they tossed the hair and stirred the lotus-like faces of the women of Sindhu. In an instant, the air was filled with restless gusts, as if carrying subtle omens of inauspiciousness. At that moment, Lila, having observed her husband—now lingering with only a breath of life—turned to Sarasvati and spoke: “O Ambika, my husband is about to leave his body, and I too stand here, motionless, as if lifeless. As his wife, I must go with him—tell me, O compassionate one, how shall we reach that place where both of us must go?” She continued, “Even when a great endeavor is set in motion—a battle, the turmoil of a nation—even if it seems to be happening, or is loudly proclaimed, its wondrous beginnings are slow to appear. Truly, nothing is accomplished; neither kingdom nor earth remains as it was, for all this is but the nature of a dream.” “Here, within this pavilion, beside the corpse—this space near him—the kingdom of the earth appears as the domain of your husband’s life. That inner chamber of yours is this house, joined to the kingdom; within the house of sage Vasiṣṭha, within the house of corpses, the world abides.” “This vast undertaking is a delusion woven from the three worlds; you, I, and this vehicle are united with the oceanic earth. Within the mountain village house, in the midst of the sky-vessel, the self of space moves about manifestly, or else does not move at all. In the dense halls of these two pavilions, within their belly, only empty space exists—there is no delusion of the world.” “For, in the absence of one who perceives wandering, what wandering can there be? Truly, there is no existence of delusion; what exists is the unborn state. In delusion, the visible is unreal—how then can there be a state of the seer? Because the sequence of seer and seen is absent, what is innate here alone abides.” “Know that supreme state, free from destruction and origination; it moves as its own, unmanifest, peaceful, primordial, and free from affliction. Within the pavilion-house, people dwell in their own nature-arisen self; there, in their own house, they abide by their own arrangement. There is no world there, nor is any creation experienced by them; therefore, I say to you, this world is like space—unborn.” “All is consciousness of the nature of emptiness; the ranges of mountains from Meru onward are not made of walls, just as a great city in a dream is not. Even within a space the size of a thumb, mountain ranges and other things—though thought hard as diamond—arise only as empty forms in each tiny atom. Just as the layers of a plantain’s leaf are arranged one within another, so too, within each atomic consciousness of the three worlds, there exists a dream-city.” “Within that, by further division, world after world arises in succession; in one such world, Padma the king lies as a corpse. O auspicious one, your co-wife Lila reached there before you; at the very moment this Lila—your counterpart—entered unconsciousness before you, she stood near the corpse of her husband Padma.” “How did she, O goddess, go there and become embodied? How did she attain and remain in the state of being his wife? Tell me, what form do those women see or speak of there? Tell me briefly about the chief residents of that house.” Sarasvati replied, “Listen, I will tell you everything concisely, just as I have seen it—the story of Lila’s play, which ends with the vision of what is seen and unseen. Just as the lotus is the lord of its pond, so he spreads this illusion; thus, he perceives the world, which is woven into himself, within his own abode.” “This battle is a battle of delusion; these people are born of delusion; in this world, death itself is through delusion, and this is the very nature of confusion. Through this very sequence of confusion, Lila’s beloved remains; you and she, O beautiful one, are nothing but a dream, O lovely-limbed woman.” “In the same way, this lord exists for both of you, and so do I myself; the splendor of the world is seen in samsara, and thus it is spoken here. This alone is understood, and the meaning of the word ‘seen’ is abandoned; thus, she is as you are, and the king is accomplished in the same way. I too, established in the truth of the Self, am the Self of all; we here are mutually accomplished, as if self-arisen.” “Thus, in the state of being the essence of all, established in the mass of supreme consciousness, the queen remains, radiant with enchanting laughter. Her eyes playfully glance, she is adorned with fresh youth; her conduct is graceful, her speech sweet and noble. Her voice resembles the song of the cuckoo, she moves languidly with the intoxication of love; her eyes are like the petals of a dark lotus, her breasts full and rounded.