Ahalya endured great suffering, even while resting upon beds made of lotus stalks, lotus fibers, and banana leaves. Her pain was as intense as that of a young girl scorched in the forest after her supporting creepers have been cut away. Despite being surrounded by royal luxuries, she became weary and restless, like a fish tossed onto dry land, tormented by the harsh summer heat. Her mind was deeply troubled. In her agitation, she kept repeating, "This is Indra, this is Indra," and, overwhelmed by longing, she even abandoned her sense of shame. Witnessing Ahalya's distress and her deep attachment to Indra, her friend comforted her, saying, "Dear one, without delay, I will bring Indra to you." At these words, Ahalya's eyes blossomed with hope. She fell at her friend's feet in gratitude, just as a lotus bows at the feet of another lotus. When night fell and the day had passed, her friend went to the prince named Indra. She properly awakened him and swiftly brought Indra to Ahalya's side in the secrecy of night. There, adorned with garlands and perfumes, Ahalya enjoyed union with the passionate Mahendra in a hidden chamber. She was captivated by Indra, who was adorned with a charming necklace and armlets, drawn to him as a vine is drawn to the taste of honey. So attached was she that Ahalya saw the whole world as filled with Indra alone, disregarding her husband, despite his countless virtues. In time, however, her infatuation with Indra was discovered by her husband, the lion among kings, who noticed the moon-like radiance of her face. As long as Ahalya meditated on Indra, her face shone with the fullness of the moon, like a lotus blooming at night. Observing their mutual attachment, the king imposed many punishments as discipline upon both Ahalya and Indra. Yet, even though abandoned, the two remained together in the water-reservoir, content and smiling, undisturbed by their circumstances. The king questioned them, "Are you not troubled, though you are cast off?" Having been taken out of the reservoir, the two replied, "Having come together here, beholding each other's flawless facial beauty, we are entranced, O king, not even disturbed by our own bodies being cut to pieces." Even when surrounded by fire, the two remained unshaken; with joyful hearts, delighted by memory, they spoke to each other. Bound at the feet of elephants and pierced by nails, they stood firm, speaking to each other with delight. Struck by whips, yet unbroken; sunk in mud, yet unshaken, thus they continued to speak. Again and again, released from various imagined nets of punishment, they were questioned and replied repeatedly with the same meaning. Indra spoke: "O king, for me, this world is filled with affection; the punishments do not trouble me at all. And for her too, O king, this entire world is indeed made of mind; therefore, the pain of punishment does not trouble us at all. We are called 'mind,' O king, for mind is said to be the person; this body that is seen is only a projection. Even with a sudden multitude of punishments applied at the same time, it is not possible in the least to disturb the steady mind. What is that, O great king, and of what kind, and whose power is it, by which even minds firmly resolved are broken?" He continued, "Whether this body falls or rises, or becomes scattered, the mind fixed on its intended object remains as before. The mind, long absorbed in the desired object and steadfast, is not broken by any influences residing in the body. O king, whatever the mind intensely contemplates, it perceives as unmoving, regardless of the body's actions. No action, O king, even those involving boons or curses, can shake a mind endowed with intense force. The mind of a person intensely attached to a desired object cannot be moved, just as animals cannot move a great mountain." "O Rama, this dark-eyed one is established in the treasury of the mind, like the goddess Bhagavati in the lofty abode of the gods. I do not follow sorrow, even with the loss of my beloved's life, as a mountain does not suffer from the heat of summer when embraced by clouds. Wherever and however I remain or move, O King, there I experience nothing apart from the desired attachment. This mind, called by names such as Ahalya’s beloved and Indra of the mind, becomes attached only through association, not by its own nature otherwise." "O King, the mind of the steadfast one, fixed on a single aim, is not shaken even by the force of great boons or curses, just as Mount Meru is unmoved. The body, indeed, may undergo change due to boons or curses, but not the mind of the resolute, O King, which has arisen with the desire to conquer. And here, O King, these fragments of the body are not the causes for the mind; rather, the mind is the cause in these bodies, just as water is in all the groves and clusters of reeds." "Know, O great-souled one, that the primary body here is the mind; by it, the multitude of bodies is imagined in the world. Wherever the primary body abides, there alone does it bear fruit abundantly for that person, not elsewhere. Know, O fortunate one, that the mind is the main sprout of a person; from it, bodies arise like shoots from a tree. When the sprout is destroyed, the glory of the shoots does not arise again, but the sprout does not perish when the leaves are destroyed. When the body perishes, the mind quickly creates a multitude of new bodies, just as in a dream a new forest appears. But when the mind is destroyed, the body does nothing at all; therefore, preserve the jewel of the mind." Thus, Indra and Ahalya, steadfast in their attachment, demonstrated that the mind, once absorbed and resolute, remains undisturbed by any external force, and that true suffering or joy arises not from the body, but from the mind itself.