With a face weary from astonishment, yet smiling in agitation, he appeared before the assembly much like the moon in the night sky confronted by the ominous shadow of Rahu, with death itself looming near. As he beheld the wondrous display conjured by the master of illusion, he spoke, his words touched by a subtle smile—just as a serpent, upon seeing a fierce brown snake, might address its dangerous kin. “O wretch,” he said, “what is this net you have woven with your tangled locks? Even the ocean, troubled and churned by the thrashing of countless fish, can become calm again in an instant. Truly wondrous and diverse are the powers of the Lord’s manifold creations! Even my own mind, though steadfast and strong, has been cast into confusion by these marvels. “Where are we, lamenting the ceaseless cycles of worldly affairs, and where are these vast, natural calamities that so easily bewilder the mind? Even a mind well-trained in supreme knowledge, while still dwelling in the body, can sometimes fall prey to delusion, if only for a moment—even among the wise. “Now, O assembly, listen as I recount this astonishing tale—the vision that was revealed to me for but a moment by the magic of Shambara. In that brief instant, I witnessed countless shifting states of existence—much like Brahma, who creates and dissolves worlds in a single moment after Indra’s reign is ended. “Having spoken thus, and with every eye in the assembly turned toward him, the king, his face brightened by a gentle smile, began to describe the marvelous story: “Here, upon this earth teeming with countless forms—lakes, rivers, mountains, and cities, with peaks and oceans pressed close together—there lies a region adorned with prosperity. To begin with, there is this land, graced by many forests and rivers, as if it were a younger brother to the very globe of the earth. Here I am the king, ruling in accordance with the wishes of my people, just as Indra presides over his heavenly assembly. “Then, from a great distance, appeared one named Shambarika—he seemed to rise up from the netherworld itself, much like the legendary magician Maya. In his hand he spun a peacock-feathered wand, its line glowing and radiant, like Indra’s lightning streaking through the sky at the end of an age. “Seeing this restless object placed before my horse, my mind grew disturbed, yet I mounted my steed alone. Like a whirlwind stirring a mountain at the world’s end, I climbed onto my agitated horse as it trembled beneath me. I set out swiftly, alone, to hunt—like a wave from the doomsday ocean rushing to break upon the land. “Carried far away by that wind-tossed steed, I became ignorant and bewildered, dulled by the force of old habits, just as one’s own mind can lead one astray. My mind was left empty and destitute, as unfortunate as the heart of a woman in distress, and terrifying as the abode of a world consumed by dissolution. “At last, exhausted, I came upon a vast, endless wilderness—without birds, shrouded in saline mist, devoid of trees and water. It was like a second sky, or an eighth ocean, or a fifth sea—dry and hollow, utterly empty. It spread out before me like the mind of a wise man, yet was swift to anger like a fool; untouched by people, without a single blade of grass or sprout ever born. “Having reached that great and desolate forest, my mind became as weary as a woman beset by poverty, with no food, no fruit, and no kin for comfort. In that place, where every direction shimmered with mirages and the illusion of water, I sank down and spent a sunless day. “With great difficulty and fatigue I made my way through that forest, like a discerning person traversing the void-like expanse of worldly existence. When the day had passed, I, utterly weary, reached another vast wilderness—just as the sun, after wandering through the empty sky, arrives at the peak of the western mountain. “In groves thick with jambu and kadamba trees, the birds’ lively chatter rang out, like the cheerful talk of travelers reunited with friends. On the ground grew rows of grass blades, unbroken, like the fleeting joys found in the crooked heart of one favored by fickle fortune. Compared to the earlier forest, this place was somewhat more pleasant; for among living beings, even disease is preferable to the utter misery of death. “There I reached the base of a jambīra grove, as Markandeya approached Indra after wandering alone upon the great ocean. I grasped a vine clinging to a branch, as a parched mountain would embrace a dark raincloud. As I hung upon it, the horse departed—just as accumulated misdeeds leave a person who takes refuge in the sacred Ganga. “Weary from my long and arduous journey, I rested there, like the sun pausing at the foot of the western mountain, beneath a wish-fulfilling tree. As the sun, together with the burdens of all worldly affairs, settles to rest upon the mountain slope, so did I find repose. “As the entire world was gradually enveloped by the darkness of night and the wild creatures of the forest began their nocturnal activities, I, in a hollow of sparse, thin grass, hid myself—utterly weary, like a bird in its own nest. Deprived of discernment by misfortune, with all hope cut off and memory slipping away, I was like a wretched man sold into bondage, or one sunk in a dark pit. “There, immersed in delusion, a single night passed for me, yet it felt as long as an age—like the sage Markandeya tossed upon the endless ocean. I did not bathe, nor stand, nor eat; the night simply dragged on as I bore the weight of my misfortunes. Sleepless, restless, trembling along with the leaves, that night seemed to last forever, prolonging the extremity of my suffering.