Lila, radiant with joy, embraced her beloved in playful affection, and he, in turn, held her close. Again and again, the king—revived from the very grip of death—found himself swept up in waves of profound happiness. The royal palace at that time became a place overflowing with people intoxicated by love and delight, its halls echoing with the exuberant clamor of music and song. The air resounded with deep, auspicious sounds, heralding victory and blessedness. The palace teemed with well-nourished, delighted people, encircled by the royal assembly and its women, all reveling in the moment. Showers of fragrant flowers, cast down by Siddhas and Vidyadharas, cooled the air, while the grand sound of drums—mridangas, murajas, kahalas, conches, and dundubhis—reverberated through every chamber. Mighty elephants, their broad trunks raised high, thundered fiercely, and the halls shook with the vigorous rhythms of tandava dances and the clapping of women's hands. Everywhere, there was the lively commotion of people greeting one another, offering a rich array of gifts, and the sight of garlands and flower-crowns assembled in celebration. Ministers, vassals, and citizens flung torn linen into the sky, so that it appeared like a field of lotuses, tinged red by the swirling groups of dancers. The air shimmered with the swinging earrings of women intoxicated by joy, their necks arched in playful abandon, while clouds of flower-dust rose from the stamping feet of the dancers. Above, the canopy of clouds hung like a tent of woven cloth, adorned by the shining faces of noble women, dancing and glowing like moons in the palace courtyards. Far and wide, people sang ballads of wonder, recounting how the king and his very soul—his beloved—had returned from the other world. Upon hearing the tale of these miraculous events, King Padma performed a ritual bath, using waters brought from the four oceans, purifying himself for the new chapter ahead. Then, as the gods once anointed Indra upon his restoration, the priests and ministers anointed the king, marking his renewed fortune. Lila and the king, now both liberated while living and endowed with great wisdom, rejoiced together, recalling their extraordinary adventures with the same delight that lovers find in their union. By the grace of Sarasvati and through his own determined effort, King Padma attained the highest good in both this world and the next. Awakened to true knowledge and the play of nonduality, the king ruled his realm blamelessly for eight thousand years. Liberated while yet alive, he had conquered his mind, overcome the delusions of the senses, and lived unattached, silent, and content with whatever came of its own accord. Just as the moon is but a drop drawn from the ocean of beauty, and the sun a spark from the fire of his majesty, so too were their lives a reflection of the highest. Thus, after ruling for eight thousand years, those who were liberated while living attained final, disembodied liberation, their awareness perfected and complete. O Rama, this sacred story of Lila has been told for the removal of faults in perception. O sinless one, let go of the heaviness you attribute to the world. The existence of appearances is, in truth, peaceful; there is no use in trying to suppress them. For what exists, attempts at purification bring only pain; for what does not exist, there is never any need. Through knowledge—whose nature is as spacious as the sky—the object of knowledge, also of the nature of space, is seen as one. Thus, the knower abides, vast and unbounded, like the sky itself. All this, devoid of earth and the rest, is only the radiance of consciousness, self-existent. What is accomplished by what is unaccomplished is neither truly dual nor truly accomplished. Consciousness, as it strives in any direction, so too does the world of appearances flow. Released into the stream of creative awareness, it remains unawakened until effort is made. This entire world is understood as a manifestation within the space of consciousness; in the pure self, within the sky of awareness, even down to the smallest atom. So, what reality, what latent impression, what condition, what destiny, what embodiment, or what inevitability can be spoken of regarding this confusion born of delusion? All of this remains as it is seen, whole and undivided. It is only māyā in the infinite, and yet, truly, there is no māyā at all. O revered one, you have revealed the supreme vision, cooling the burning of worldly perception like the moon cools a wildfire. At last, I have come to know this indestructible knowledge: whatever this is, however it is, in whatever way and whenever it is. I feel myself becoming calm, O best of twice-born, free from distinctions. This wondrous tale, this explanation, is contained in the vision of the scriptures. Yet, O Lord, a doubt remains—please tell me, for I am not yet satisfied by drinking your nectar-like words through the vessels of my ears. Time, in the three creations, is indeed the play of the Lord through yoga. Sometimes it is just a single day and night, sometimes only a month. Sometimes it is many years; for one person it is exceedingly brief, for another it is extremely long, and for yet another it lasts only a moment. Therefore, O venerable one, kindly tell me properly out of compassion. For once heard, it does not bring rest, just as water does not remain on a clod of earth. O sinless one, whatever, whenever, and however something is perceived, in that very way, at that very time, it is experienced. Immortality itself can become poison through constant perception of poison; an enemy may become a friend through the awareness of friendship. As each object is conceived, so it takes its own form; through long practice, that alone comes under the sway of destiny. This consciousness, being of one essence, manifests as it is imagined; thus, there, it quickly becomes so, due to the sole cause of its own nature. If, in a single moment, one perceives a multitude of aeons, then in that very moment, those aeons come to be—of this, there is no doubt. If a kalpa, an epoch, perceives itself as a mere moment, then that kalpa quickly becomes a moment, for consciousness truly takes the form it assumes. For one who is suffering, a night feels as long as an aeon, while for the happy, that same night passes in an instant. In dreams, a moment may seem an aeon, and an aeon may pass as a moment. Thus, the play of consciousness shapes all experience, and in this understanding, liberation is found.