From the highest creator, Brahma, down to the smallest blade of grass, all beings move and play in the world, exulting, restraining, withering, and rejoicing, just as the wind stirs and quiets everything in its path. Among these countless beings, some are supremely pure—like Hari, Hara, and others—while some, such as serpents, humans, and celestial beings, are only slightly veiled by delusion. Others, like trees and grasses, are deeply enveloped in ignorance, and some, lost in bewilderment, have taken birth as worms and insects. There are those, like blades of grass swept far from the great ocean of Brahman, who have not yet reached their proper state, remaining distant, just as serpents and men do. Some, having glimpsed the shore of that vast ocean, are overcome by weariness, and whether born or unborn, all are ultimately subject to the relentless grip of Death’s aged claws. Yet, there are others who, reaching the very interval of the ocean of Brahman’s essence, have crossed to the far shore, free from sorrow, in the company of Hari, Brahma, Hara, and other exalted beings. Some, with only slight delusion, remain within the ocean of Brahman itself, relying on its support, untouched by the floods of unseen passions and diseases. Among all these, some are like waves of births yet to be enjoyed, while others are the countless waves of lives already experienced. But those beings who are established in the radiance of darkness are barren, bearing neither fruit nor joy. In this ceaseless movement, some beings rise upward from lower states, some ascend ever higher, while others descend further and further into lower realms. This entire play of joy and sorrow arises from remembrance of the supreme state; but when the supreme state is realized, all this activity perishes—just as the pain of poison vanishes when the name of the antidote-bird is recalled. In the midst of all this, there are those who have conquered the delusion of the mind, who see the heights and depths of the world and wander here as liberated beings—yakshas, gandharvas, and kinnaras among them. Others, dull as logs or walls, have entered a state of immobility; their delusion remains unexhausted, and there is little to consider about them. For beings who are awakening to self-realization, the scriptures in this world have been composed by those whose minds are suitably inclined. But for those whose intentions are truly awakened and whose wrongdoings are exhausted, their intellect becomes pure and engaged in inquiry into these scriptures. Through thorough investigation of true scripture, the delusion of the mind dissolves, just as the darkness of night vanishes when the sun rises in the sky. A mind that is not dissolving exists only for delusion, not for realization; it covers like a mist and wanders like a ghost. O sage, for all beings here, it is the mind alone that is the vessel of pleasure and pain—not the body made of flesh. This aggregate of flesh and bones that is seen, belonging to the material world, is but a projection of the mind; the body is not ultimately real. O sage, whatever your son did with his mind and body, that he has quickly received; in this, we are not at fault. Indeed, whatever actions anyone in the world performs, driven by their own tendencies, that alone they obtain; there is no agency of another in this. Who in this world has the power to accomplish anything that is not already accompanied within by the inclination of one’s own mind? All enjoyments and desires for heaven and hell arise from one’s own mind; their result is the dullness and suffering of inertia. Why speak further with elaborate words? Arise, venerable one, let us go to where your son is situated. Having experienced everything with the mental body, Śukra, in a moment, by the union of the moon’s rays, is now established in the heat of the sun. That vital wind, united with mind, bearing the fruit of the moon’s rays, becomes like rain and stands as virility in man. Having spoken thus, the venerable Kāla, as if smiling at the courses of the world, took Bhṛgu by the hand, just as the sun takes the moonbeam. Softly, Kāla said, “How wondrous are the arrangements of destiny.” The venerable Bhṛgu rose up like the sun rising from the eastern mountain. Those two, arising together like twin treasures of light, shone in the splendid forest amidst the cluster of dark tamāla trees, like the full moon and sun ascending together in the clear sky, ready to roam as cloud and water-laden moon and sun. After the sage had spoken thus, the day moved toward evening, and the sun set. The assembly, having offered their salutations, departed to bathe, accompanied by the gentle rays of the setting sun. As they descended from the mountain, they beheld celestial beings of great brilliance, sleeping in groves adorned with clusters of fresh golden creepers. Heavenly maidens played with vine bracelets and swings, their gazes innocent as deer, their enchanting eyes recalling lotuses. They saw lions seated upon lofty fragments of rock, embodiments of vigor, gazing indifferently upon the three worlds. Elephant chiefs, their hands resting on tall palms and creeper trunks, drowsy from intoxication, stood as if embodying pride. They saw camaras, their bodies reddened by flower pollen and wind, tails fluttering, beautifully moving in auspicious patterns across the earth. Bees were continually immersed in showers of falling flowers, taking refuge among the branches of sarja and date palms. Monkeys, fierce in their wandering, their faces colored by minerals, made loud noises and defeated the reeds with their mutual fruit-throwing. The mountain slopes, groves, and palaces were concealed beneath canopies of vines, where accomplished beings were attended by celestial women adorned with mandāra flowers. The riverbanks were covered by layers of minerals and veiled by sheets of clouds, untouched by people, resembling Buddhist ascetics who have renounced worldly contact. Rivers flowed, their waves bound by clusters of jasmine and mandāra, as if the ocean itself had seized them, decorated with the freshness of spring. Trees, shaken by the wind, had their limbs weighed down by masses of flowers, appearing exhausted upon receiving honey, while bees swirled around them with restless eyes. Thus, in this wondrous world, the sages moved, witnessing the play of beings, the beauty of nature, and the mysterious workings of destiny.