King Lavana began his account, recalling a poignant episode involving his youngest son, Thutthaka. Thutthaka, radiant and exceedingly dear to his parents, stood before his father, his heart heavy with sorrow and his eyes brimming with tears. In his distress, he pleaded, “Give me flesh quickly, and let me drink blood at once.” His hunger was so intense that he repeated his request again and again, crying out until he reached the brink of death. King Lavana tried to console him, saying repeatedly, “Son, there is no flesh.” Yet Thutthaka, lost in his desperation, insisted, “Give me flesh from your own body.” Overwhelmed by affection and weighed down by sorrow, the king finally said, “Son, eat my cooked flesh.” Thutthaka accepted this, and with his strength exhausted and limbs slack, he ate his father’s flesh. Driven by love and compassion, and wishing to end all suffering, the king rose quickly for the sake of his dying son. He brought wood from the forest, despite the scorching summer heat, and built a funeral pyre for himself, intending to end his life. The pyre was kindled, its flames leaping upward, crackling and snapping, eager for his body. At that moment, his daughter spoke: “When you fall upon this pyre, you must quickly tear off and eat your own flesh, piece by piece.” As he was about to throw himself onto the pyre, he suddenly tumbled down from his throne. The sound of drums and cries of victory surrounded him, and he awoke abruptly, regaining his senses and awareness. King Lavana realized that he had been plunged into delusion by the power of Shambarika, just as living beings are enveloped by ignorance, experiencing countless states. He recounted this story, likening it to Markandeya’s telling of the endless suffering of a cosmic age to the kings of the gods. When King Lavana finished speaking, Shambarika instantly vanished from that place. Those assembled were filled with astonishment; they looked at one another with eyes wide as lotus petals and exclaimed, “Ah, truly, how marvelous and extraordinary is this illusion! Who indeed is this so-called Shambarika, and where has he gone ahead?” They marveled at the wondrous and manifold powers of the Creator, acknowledging that even the discerning mind is bewildered by such illusions. They wondered aloud, “This king, who knows the affairs of the world—where is he now? And where are those great confusions fit only for ordinary minds?” They reflected that the illusion arising from Shambarika was not merely a delusion in the mind, for such Shambarikas are always intent on gain, striving earnestly for wealth and never vanishing. Thus, they felt tossed about, standing in the swing of doubt. Sage Vasishtha then addressed Rama, saying, “O Rama, at that time I was present in that assembly; what I saw then was witnessed directly by me, not merely heard from another. Direct your own mind, which has grown through excessive imagination, toward tranquility, O great-souled one. When tranquility is attained in your true nature, you will reach that supreme, pure state.” He continued, explaining the nature of consciousness and illusion: “In the beginning, due to a cause beyond, consciousness falls into the state of subject and object, attains the realm of imagination, and from there, further imaginations of impurity arise. In the delusions of unreal things, the mind behaves in such ways, attaining insignificance amidst dense illusions and remaining so for a long time. The mind’s tendency toward what is unreal becomes feeble, yet it spreads extensively, bringing suffering with a thousand faults, like a child with a Vetala. “Even what is real, for a moment, leads to great suffering by causing unreality; a pure mental tendency dispels darkness like the sun. The mind brings what is near to a distance and what is distant to nearness, leaping among beings like a child among young birds. For the ignorant one whose mind is filled with tendencies, fear arises from what is fearless; from afar, the bewildered traveler sees a tree as a demon. The mind, stained by impurity, suspects enmity in a friend; the creature whose intellect is seized by intoxication, wandering, sees the earth spinning. When the mind is greatly disturbed, lightning arises from the moon; nectar, consumed with the nature of poison, becomes poisonous in effect. “The mind, colored by tendencies, sees the construction of cities and towns as real, though they are unreal; indeed, even in waking, it experiences dreams. The sole cause of delusion in a being is the forceful impression of the mind; it must be diligently uprooted, cut off at the root. Drawn by the snare of impressions, the mind—like a deer—falls helplessly into the thicket of worldly existence. When, through discernment, the impressions of a living being are destroyed, then his light shines forth, like the sun in a cloudless sky. “Therefore, know that it is only the mind that is the person, not the body; the body is inert, but the mind is neither inert nor non-inert, as the wise understand. Whatever is done by the mind, O Rama, know that as truly done; whatever is abandoned by the mind, O Raghava, know that as truly abandoned. The entire world is only mind; the mountains are mind, the sky is mind, the earth is mind, the wind is mind, the great elements are mind. If the mind does not associate an object with its own conception, then even the sun and the rest never appear as luminous. “The mind takes up delusion; he whose mind does so is called deluded. When the body is deluded, it is not called deluded—like a corpse.” Thus, the story of King Lavana’s illusion and the teachings that followed revealed the profound nature of the mind, its capacity for suffering and delusion, and the path to tranquility and ultimate purity.