Lifeless and cold as snow, the queen’s body lay fallen upon the ground, dry and withered like a leaf, beside the wooden wall. Soon, the ministers arrived, and with heavy hearts, they confirmed her death by the unmistakable signs of decay. Fearing impurity, they quickly removed her from the house. There is little more to say: the attendants placed her upon the funeral pyre, surrounding her with fragrant sandalwood and pouring ghee upon her form. In moments, the flames consumed her, reducing her body to ashes. The queen’s passing unleashed a wave of loud and tumultuous lamentation throughout the kingdom. All her attendants gathered to perform the final rites, mourning her loss. Yet now, to see her here again in bodily form—returned from the other world—would be regarded as a great marvel. By the power of her unwavering resolve, she appeared once more, her noble mind focused intently upon her son. The very impression she had held regarding her body manifested again, and her form arose just as it had been before. Each perceives according to their own impressions, and this is illustrated by the vision of the child Vetala, which stands as a clear example. Endowed now with the subtle body, she, accomplished and beautiful, forgot her former body, which departed on its own. For one whose awareness abides in the subtle body, the afflictions of the physical body fall away, appearing as insubstantial as a rain cloud in the vast sky. Once established in the subtle body, the physical form becomes lifeless—like a cloud without water or a flower bereft of fragrance. As her awareness matured, she let go of the body, forgetting it as one forgets the state of the womb in youth. On this, the thirty-first day, they arrived in the sky; that very morning, two maidservants had been overcome by sleep. “Come, Lila,” said her companion, “let us reveal ourselves to her, for the sake of play, by the power of thought, so that activity may proceed.” As soon as this thought arose—“Let us appear before Lila”—the two goddesses became visible, shining in that vision by the power of awareness. Lila, wife of Viduratha, her eyes wide with wonder, beheld the house, radiant with a mass of light. The sight was like something carved from the moon’s disk, washed with streams of gold, cool as a gentle flame, slender as a vine supported by a sturdy tree. Seeing the house before her and sensing the playful summons, Lila rose swiftly and, in haste, fell at their feet. When Queen Majjaya arrived, she proclaimed, “Victory to you, givers of life! I have come before you as the one who clears your path.” After these words, the proud and youthful women sat gracefully upon their seats, like vines adorning the summit of Mount Meru. They asked gently, “Child, tell us: how did you first arrive in this place? What happened to you, and what did you see along the way?” Lila replied, “Goddess, in that place I fell into a deep swoon, like the waning crescent moon swallowed by the flames at the end of an age. I was unaware of anything—neither joy nor sorrow. My eyes closed beneath trembling lashes, and at the end of that deathly swoon, O supreme goddess, I suddenly found myself rising, soaring into the expanse of the sky. “In the space of the elements, I mounted the chariot of the wind; just as a streak of fragrance is carried by a breeze, so I was brought to this abode. Here, I see a dwelling adorned by its master, shining with lamps, secluded and furnished with a splendid bed. I behold my husband, Viduratha, lying there, his body guarded by flowers, like honey in a garden of blossoms. “Now, exhausted from the fervor of battle, he sleeps deeply. Therefore, O queen of gods, I did not disturb his slumber. When the goddess arrived here, I recounted everything as I experienced it, O gracious one, seeking your favor. “O you who move like swans, with playful and charming eyes, let us awaken the king from this bed of corpses.” Having said this, Lila released her vital breath, like a lotus sending forth its fragrance. It took the form of a breeze and entered Viduratha’s nostrils. Swiftly, the breath entered the cavity of his nose, like wind passing through the hollow of a bamboo, carrying with it countless impressions, as the ocean holds many gems. The radiance of life shone forth from his face, just as a lotus in water appears to be entered by another lotus reflected upon it. Gradually, all his limbs gleamed with beauty, like clusters of flowers blossoming on the earth, or like networks of vines climbing a hill. He appeared, full of splendor, like the full moon, illuminating the dwelling with abundant rays from his moon-like face. His limbs expanded, soft and vibrant, shining with golden brilliance like fresh shoots in spring. He opened his eyes, which radiated pure light—charming and beautiful, like the moon and sun illuminating the world. Rising, his body radiant like the mighty Vindhya mountain growing in stature, he spoke: “Who stands here, dwelling in this abode of shining brilliance?” Before him, the duality of play responded, “Let it be commanded.” He saw, standing humbly before him, the duality of play itself—equal in support, form, appearance, speech, effort, joy, and arising.