In the heart of that sacred realm, a wondrous diversity of beings moved according to the nature of their minds. There, some had conquered the delusions that cloud the mind and, seeing both the heights and depths of the world, wandered freely as liberated souls—among them yakshas, gandharvas, and kinnaras, radiant in their freedom. Yet others, their awareness dulled to the point of immobility, seemed no more conscious than logs or stone walls; their delusion, unexhausted, left them in a state beyond further consideration. For those beings who were awakening to self-realization, the scriptures circulating in that world had been composed by sages whose minds were suitably inclined toward truth. When one’s intentions truly awakened and all wrongdoings were exhausted, the intellect became pure, naturally drawn to the inquiry into these sacred texts. Through a thorough investigation of true scripture, the delusion of the mind dissolved, just as the darkness of night vanishes before the rising sun. But a mind not engaged in this dissolution existed only for delusion, not for realization. Such a mind, like mist, covered the truth and wandered aimlessly, like a ghost. O sage, it is the mind alone that serves as the vessel for pleasure and pain for all beings—not the body made of flesh. This body of flesh and bones, visible and tangible, is but a projection of the mind; it is not ultimately real. O sage, whatever your son did with his mind and body, he has swiftly received the results of those actions; in this, we are not at fault. Each being in this world reaps only the fruits of their own actions, driven by their individual tendencies; there is no other agency at work. Who, indeed, has the power to accomplish anything for which the inclination does not already exist within their own mind? All enjoyments and desires for heaven or hell are but the outflow of one’s own mind, and their results are the dullness and suffering that come with inertia. Why speak further in elaborate words? Arise, venerable one, let us go to where your son now abides. Having experienced all things with the mental body, Śukra, in a single moment, became established in the heat of the sun through the union of the moon’s rays. The vital wind, united with the mind and bearing the fruit of the moon’s rays, became like rain, manifesting as virility in man. Having spoken thus, the venerable Kāla, as if smiling at the mysterious courses of the world, took Bhṛgu by the hand, just as the sun draws along the moonbeam. Kāla spoke softly, “Indeed, how wondrous are the arrangements of destiny.” Rising up like the sun from the eastern mountain, the venerable Bhṛgu followed. Together, the two arose like twin treasures of light, shining 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-laden moon and sun. After the sage had spoken thus, the day moved toward evening and the sun set. The assembly, offering their salutations, departed to bathe, accompanied by the gentle rays of the setting sun. As Kāla and Bhṛgu 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 the beauty of lotuses. Lions sat upon lofty rocks, embodiments of vigor, gazing indifferently upon the three worlds. Elephant chiefs, hands resting on tall palm and creeper trunks, stood drowsy from intoxication, as if pride itself had taken form. They saw camaras, their bodies reddened by flower pollen and wind, their tails fluttering as they moved beautifully in auspicious patterns across the earth. Bees, immersed in showers of falling flowers, took refuge among the branches of sarja and date palms. Monkeys, fierce in their wandering, faces colored by minerals, made loud noises and hurled fruits at each other, defeating the reeds in their playful battles. Mountain slopes, groves, and palaces lay concealed beneath canopies of vines, where accomplished beings were attended by celestial women adorned with mandāra flowers. Riverbanks, covered by layers of minerals and veiled by sheets of clouds, remained untouched by people, resembling ascetics who have renounced worldly contact. Rivers flowed, their waves bound by clusters of jasmine and mandāra, as if the ocean itself had claimed them and adorned them with the freshness of spring. Trees, shaken by the wind, their limbs weighed down by masses of flowers, appeared exhausted by the honey they received, while bees swirled about them with restless eyes. Beholding the abundant splendor of the king of mountains, Kāla and Bhṛgu wandered here and there, until they arrived at the earth adorned with cities and towns. In a moment, they reached a river whose waves played among flowers, beautiful and whole, as if composed entirely of blossoms. There, on its bank, Bhṛgu saw a youth who had turned away from his former body and attained a different state of being. His senses were tranquil, established in meditation, his mind steady and unmoving, as if he had found relief from prolonged fatigue. The endless cycles of worldly existence, filled with unceasing joy and sorrow, seemed as if they were being contemplated by him—though long enjoyed, they had now been abandoned. His mind had attained immovability, like a wheel that has spun excessively and now rests still, as if stilled by the extraordinary revolutions of infinite worlds. Bhṛgu beheld him established in utter solitude, lovely and radiant by his own inner light, his actions pacified and free from the agitation and confusion of the mind. Seated in absorption beyond thought, withdrawn from the play of opposites, he smiled serenely at all the courses of the worlds, his mind cooled and at peace. He beheld one who knew all events, whose curiosity was entirely gone, who had dispelled the net of imagination and taken refuge in the supreme state. He saw him resting in infinite repose, established in the Self, not grasping at mere reflections, like a pure crystal lying still.