Listen, O Rama, to the wondrous workings of the mind, for it is the mind that swiftly turns the existent into the nonexistent and the nonexistent into the existent. All joys and sorrows experienced are but those imagined and embraced by the mind itself. Just as the fickle mind, uncertain and restless, grasps things according to its own shifting nature, so too do the hands, feet, and all the organs act in harmony with the mind’s direction. Whatever action arises as the mind’s intention quickly bears fruit, just as a well-tended vine yields its harvest in due season. Consider, Rama, how a child fashions many playthings from mere mud within the house; in the same way, the mind, through its vast imagination, creates the world in endless variety. Why then, as the mind delights in the innocent play of children—their mud and their babbling—should one form alone be imagined as reality among the multitude of objects in the world? Just as the coming of the proper season causes a tree to take on new forms and colors, so too is it the mind alone that is responsible for the various forms we perceive. In fantasy, in dreams, and in the fabrications of thought, the mind delights in its own play, conjuring even a vast pond the size of a league within the tiny imprint of a cow’s hoof. The mind stretches an age into a fleeting moment, or prolongs a moment into an age; thus, those who know declare that the sequence of place and time depends entirely on the mind’s perception. The mind’s efforts may be swift or slow, intense or faint—these distinctions may seem to delay its workings, but never for long, nor from any lack of power. All delusion, confusion, the coming and going of objects, places, and times—these all arise from the mind, like countless leaves sprouting from the branches of a tree. Just as water is inseparable from the ocean, and heat from fire, so too is the manifold activity of the world nothing but the play of the mind. Everything that is perceived here—the agent, the action, the instrument, the entire field of cognition, filled with seer, seeing, and seen—this, O Rama, is truly none other than your own mind. The mind itself appears as worlds, realms, and forests, manifesting in countless forms, just as gold, though one in substance, is seen as bracelets, crowns, and armlets by those who have set aside the notion of gold’s oneness. Now, listen as I tell you a marvelous tale, revealing how the splendor of this world’s illusion depends wholly upon the mind. On this earth, there is a great and flourishing land, crowded with many cities and forests, known as the Northern Pāṇḍavas. In this land, ascetics dwell in groves of fresh jambīra trees, their branches dense and unbroken, while the parks and towns are adorned with swings woven from creepers by celestial maidens. The mountains there shine golden, dusted with the pollen of lotuses scattered by the wind, and the forests are garlanded with radiant masses of blossoms. The wilds are bordered by thickets of karañja flowers, and the air rings with the jingling sounds of villages hidden among date palms. Fields of ripening paddy, golden millet, and wheat stretch in rows, flocks of peacocks wander, and splendid forests encircle the land. The cries of cranes and sarus birds echo across blooming lotus groves, while clusters of dark tamāla trees and blue mountain villages stand nearby. The calls of wondrous birds resound, and pārihadraka trees, drowsing on the riverbanks, redden the landscape. In the millet fields, the sweet singing of girls calls forth the god of love, and the wind scatters clouds of blossoms from the meadows heavy with flowers. Perfected beings and celestial wanderers, emerging from their homes, honor this land, as though beauty itself had been summoned from heaven and shaped there. Groves of banana trees border the gardens, where kinnara couples sing, and the flower gardens, pale and fragrant, are stirred by gentle breezes. In this land reigns King Lavaṇa, supremely righteous, descended from the lineage of Hariścandra, shining upon the earth like the sun. The mountains themselves seem adorned with garlands of his glory, as if the very peaks of Hara had been shaken and decked in his renown. All his enemies have been utterly destroyed, cut down like dry grass, and even those who are not his foes are seized with fever at the mere thought of him. People remember the noble deeds of one whose undertakings are generous and who protects the virtuous, just as they recall the acts of Hari. In the celestial abodes, on the peaks of the gods’ mountains, the Apsaras sing songs of his virtues, their bodies blossoming with delight. His own beautiful consorts, renowned among the guardians of the worlds, sing songs that Brahma’s swans echo, repeating these praises out of habit. O Rama, in one whose noble marvels are extraordinary, not even in dreams does the taint of misery ever appear or is heard of. He knows nothing of crookedness, nor has he ever seen greed; his magnanimity is steadfast, like the rosary held by Brahma. When the sun arrives in the eighth part of the day, the king would sometimes be seated in his assembly hall, enthroned upon the lion-seat. There he sits, radiant as the moon among the stars, while the vassal armies enter the hall with excitement. The beloved women sing, the kings recline at ease, and the sweet, delightful sounds of the lute and flute captivate all minds. The queens, graceful and charming, wave beautiful fans, and the assembly of ministers—wise as the teachers of gods and demons—rest nearby. The ministers skillfully discuss important royal affairs, and expert spies report news from all regions. At auspicious times, histories and sacred texts are recited, and the bards, bowing before the king, sing holy praises. Then, filled with pride, a certain magician enters the assembly, like a rain cloud eager to pour upon the earth. He bows to the king, whose noble neck is like a mountain peak, standing at his feet like a fruit-laden tree before a lovely mountain. Thus, O Rama, the splendor and marvels of this world, the glory of kings and lands, all arise from the play of the mind, which conjures and manifests the world’s wonders as easily as a child fashions forms from mud.