Raghava, listen closely to the wisdom unfolding here. Just as the scattering of enchanted powder can conjure the illusion of a city shimmering in the sky, so too within the expanse of consciousness, the essence and non-essence of samsara—the cycle of worldly existence—manifest. This illusion persists as long as ignorance, with its tangled branches and dense thickets, is not burned away at its very root by the fire of deep inquiry. Ignorance continues to create vast forests of pleasure and pain, trapping beings within its maze. Now, let me tell you how this golden wave of ignorance, though false, dissolves, and how the sense of 'I' and 'mine' gradually fades. King Lavana, after witnessing such confusion and suffering, resolved to journey again. On the second day, he set out to enter that great forest, determined to seek understanding. The memories of the suffering he had seen in that wilderness lingered with him. Sometimes these memories appeared in the mirror of his mind, vivid and haunting; sometimes he experienced them directly. With his ministers, he resolved to travel southward for the sake of conquest, reaching the imposing Vindhya mountains. Driven by curiosity, Lavana wandered across the land, tracing the shores of the great ocean to the east, south, and west, as the sun traces its path across the sky. In one place, he encountered a wild forest looming ahead like a wall, reminiscent of the mysterious realm beyond this world. Roaming everywhere, he observed countless events, marveling at their variety and meaning. Among those he encountered were hunters—the outcaste Pukkasas—standing before him. Overwhelmed by wonder, Lavana wandered on, bewildered by what he saw. Eventually, he reached the edge of the great forest, gray with smoke and dust, arriving at the very village where he had once lived as a thriving Pukkasa. There, he saw the people, the women, the little huts, the gardens, streams, and stretches of land. He witnessed the sudden ruin, the trees, the herds of cattle, and the sites marked by events that had taken place there. Elsewhere, among old women with tearful eyes, afflicted by sorrow, one friend recounted to another the countless griefs of losing loved ones untimely in the forest. One aged woman, greatly afflicted, her eyes shining with tears, her throat choked, her body emaciated and breasts dried, wailed amidst the place scorched by the fierce fire of grief. She cried out, “Alas, my son! My body, wounded and weakened by three days without food, is worn out. How, and where, did your life depart from your mutilated, decaying body? I remember the garland of gunja berries you wore, your sweet laughter with your wife, the ripe fruit held between your moist teeth, and your playful swinging from the palm tree. In the groves of kadamba, jambira, clove, and gunja, where wild beasts roam, when will I again see my son’s leaps and plunges into those terrifying places?” She lamented, “Those charming marks are not found on the lips of women who delight in chewing betel; they adorned the blue cheek of my son, left by the meat he had eaten. My daughter, too, was taken away by her husband and will soon go to Yama, the lord of death, just as the Yamuna river joins the Yamuna, like a forest wanderer carried by the breeze with a cluster of flowers.” She grieved for her daughter: “Alas, my daughter, with a gunja berry necklace and full, rounded breasts, wearing a garment of leaves, blue as the water stirred by the wind, untroubled by dust at the edge of the clouds. Alas, prince, radiant as the moon, you abandoned those pure, graceful women and sought pleasure with my own daughter; yet she did not find lasting happiness with you.” She reflected, “In the river of worldly existence, with its waves breaking and playful activities mocking, what trivial thing has not been done by that king, who was joined to the daughter of a pukkasa? She, whose eyes resembled those of a frightened deer, and he, whose strength matched that of a satisfied lion—both departed together in a single step into destruction, just as hope and wealth vanish, like gold.” The woman continued, “I am the wife of a dead lord, my children have faded away, I have traveled to a foreign land, I am destitute, born into a low lineage, afflicted by great misfortune, and I myself am the witness to my own downfall. Women, the sole refuge for those humiliated by contempt, weakened by hunger, burdened by family, and overwhelmed by unstoppable grief, are left without support except for their own bodies. For one afflicted by fate, separated from relatives, confused and deeply rooted in suffering, living is the same as dying; great misfortune makes death life’s highest blessing. For one deprived of people, living in a foreign land, endless sorrows arise, crowded together like thousands of branches and blades of grass on a mountain during the rains.” After comforting the woman, aged with her family, with the help of his maidservants, King Lavana asked her gently, “What has happened here? Who are you? Who is your daughter? And who is your husband?” With tearful eyes, she replied, “This village is called Pukkasa settlement. Here, my husband was a pukkasa; he had one daughter, radiant like the moon. By the will of fate, she obtained a husband equal to the moon, a king who arrived here by destiny. Like a poor female elephant who finds an empty, broken honey-jar in the forest, she came to him alone. She enjoyed happiness with him for a long time, and gave birth to a daughter and sons; she grew old in that forest hollow, like a gourd vine covered by a tree.” Some time later, O lord of people, a terrible drought struck the village, breaking the spirit of its people. Because of this great suffering, all the villagers left and wandered far away, where they met their end. Thus, O lord, we who remain here are left to share in this suffering; we are pitiable, we weep, our eyes brimming with tears. Hearing this from the lips of the women, the king was filled with wonder. Looking at the faces of his ministers, he seemed as if struck by a marvelous painting. He reflected again and again on this extraordinary event, questioning them repeatedly, becoming ever more astonished. Moved by compassion, and seeing the world in all its aspects, he relieved their suffering with proper respect and honor for their minds. Having remained there for a long time, reflecting on the courses of destiny, King Lavana returned to his city, honored by the citizens, and entered within. The next morning, in the assembly hall, the king approached me, astonished, and asked, “O sage, how has this dream appeared as if it were real?” Thus, Raghava, the tale unfolds—a journey through illusion, suffering, compassion, and the mysterious workings of fate.