The two young seekers stood before the fierce demoness, their hearts steady though her presence was daunting. She declared, “If you both possess the true knowledge, you are virtuous and destined for the highest good. But if you do not, you bring only harm, and I cannot accept you as akin to my own nature. There is but one way for you to cross safely from my side—if you carefully discern the essence hidden within my cage of questions.” With resolve, the king answered her, “Ask your questions, O noble one! I am eager to fulfill your wishes. For who in this world, having accepted a request, does not grant it—unless hindered by some fault that brings only decline?” Having received his assent, the demoness began her inquiry, her voice deep and resonant. “Listen, O Raghava, to the questions she posed,” the sage recounted. She began: “Within the one, the countless, the minute, as in the ocean—innumerable universes dissolve like bubbles. What, then, is space, and what is non-space? What is nothing, and what is something? Who am I, truly fulfilled, and who are you? Who is the ‘I’ that stands here? Who moves yet does not move? Who stands, yet remains unmoved? Who is conscious yet like a stone, and who creates wonders in the sky? Who is fire that never abandons its fiery nature, and who is fire that does not burn? From the non-fire, how does fire arise, O king, again and again? Who is the imperishable illuminator, even without moon, sun, fire, or stars? And from what, though not perceived by the eyes, does light manifest itself? For creepers, bushes, sprouts, and for those born blind, and likewise for others without eyes—what is the highest source of light? Who is the origin of space and the other elements, who gives them their nature? Who is the treasure chest of the world’s jewels, and in whose treasury is the world itself a gem? What is the atom that is both darkness and light, that exists and does not exist? What is the atom that is distant yet not distant, and that itself is a great mountain? What is a moment that is an age, and what is an age that is a moment? What is apparent yet unreal, and what is conscious yet unconscious? What is both airless and air, what is sound and soundlessness? What is everything and nothing? Who am I and who am I not, and what can that be? What is gained through hundreds of efforts and many lifetimes, yet when attained is nothing, and yet everything is attainable? By whom is one’s own self taken away, even while living in one’s own nature? By what atom are the Meru mountain, the three worlds, and a blade of grass all contained within? By what atom is a hundred-yojana expanse filled? What atom alone becomes a world, yet is not found even in a hundred yojanas? By what mere act of seeing is the world-play enacted? Within which atom are the pots that hold the families of mountains? What is the atom that does not abandon its minuteness, yet appears in the massive form of Meru? What is the atom that is the hundredth part of a hair’s tip, and what is the towering mountain? What is the atom that is the light revealing both brightness and darkness? Within which atom do all experiences, minute as they are, reside? What is the atom that, though utterly tasteless, is intensely savored? By which atom, having renounced all, is everything nevertheless supported? By which atom, lacking the power to conceal itself, is the world concealed? By the method of which atom does the world subsist as real? What is the atom that is without parts, yet has a thousand hands and eyes? What is an instant, or a great age, or even hundreds of great ages? In which atom do worlds abide, as trees in a seed? From seed to fruit, all things, whether manifest or unmanifest, are contained therein. Of which instant is an age contained within, as life is within a living being? What acts as the agent of action, even without relying on any doer? For the sake of perceivable wealth, the seer may make himself the seen; yet, seeing the seen, who does not see his own self, as the eye does not see itself? Who, seeing the undivided Self into which all objects have merged, does not see the external objects, even when they appear before him? Who illumines the Self, the act of seeing, and the seen, just as gold pervades ornaments like a bangle, and by whom are these three absorbed? Why does nothing remain separate, like waves in the great ocean, and by whose will does anything appear distinct, like foam upon the vast sea? From that one, unlimited by space, time, and other conditions, which is both unreal and real, why does even duality not remain separate, but seems to dissolve like water in the great ocean? Who, having established within himself the Self, the act of seeing, and the seen—both real and unreal, and all that moves through the three times—remains as the inner seed, like a seed within a limb? Within whom does the vast, whirling multitude of worlds—existing in past, present, and future—always abide equally, as a tree abides within the seed? Who, though not arisen, arises by himself as the one, formless essence—just as the seed quickly becomes the tree, and the tree in turn becomes the seed? O King, in relation to whom do the peaks of Meru and Mandara exist within the belly of a lotus fiber or the great Meru itself? By whom is this universe, with its countless forms, spread out? Why do you so fiercely boast, destroy, and protect? With what vision do you not become, or do you indeed become, existence itself? Surely you are not of equal sight—tell me, so that this may be calmed. Let this doubt of mine dissolve completely, like the fading of dew on the lotus face of the mind. If doubt does not vanish at its root, then even the words of the wise never truly reach anywhere. If you do not lead me, step by step, to the cessation of this doubt, making it lighter with sound understanding, then you will swiftly become fuel for the fire in the belly of the demon, and will be consumed without hindrance in a moment. Afterwards, I will devour that entire region and its people, all around, with the hunger of my belly in an instant. Thus, for you, it will be as if a good king rules; but I think that excessive delight is always ruinous for fools.” Having spoken thus, with a voice as deep and vast as thunderclouds, the night-dweller, her form fierce and terrifying, became silent. Yet within, she was pure, like a spotless autumn cloud. In the great night, beneath the shadowed trees of the vast forest, after the great demon maiden had spoken, the chief minister prepared to give his reply to these profound questions.