O Rama, listen to the tale of Shukra’s subtle essence. This essence, born from the lineage of Bhrigu, first attained the state of life, then took on the form of action and arose as the unique Bhargava nature. In its journey, the essence united with the supreme state and became the condition of elemental space, stirred by the wind. Through the currents of prana and apana, it entered the heart of Bhrigu, gradually gaining strength and forming the body of Ushanas, known as Shukra. Endowed with the sacred rites of a Brahmin, she became the foremost among her father’s offspring. In due time, however, she reached the state of a dried skeleton. When her body, once vibrant with Brahman, departed, Shukra lamented for her. Though he was free from passion and desire, composed in his brahmin-like form, Shukra grieved for his own body, for such is the nature of embodied beings. Yet, through this display of grief, Shukra revealed to the wise the distinction between the body and the embodied self, establishing the importance of detachment. This is the course of the body, whether one is wise or ignorant, for as long as life endures. In the world, conduct always follows one's ability or inability. Both those who understand the nature of things and those who are ignorant, acting like animals, remain entangled in worldly dealings, like lotuses caught in a net. The ignorant act in one way, and so do the wise; only a difference in tendencies leads to bondage or liberation. As long as the body persists, pain is felt in pain and pleasure in pleasure; the wise, with unattached minds, appear as if unawakened. In pleasure, they seem happy; in painful situations, they seem afflicted; yet truly, great souls are inwardly cool and unaffected. Just as reflections in a pillar may be disturbed while the pillar itself remains steady, so for the knower, only the organs of action are agitated, not the steady mind. Knowing this, the wise remain amidst worldly activities, moving or unmoving, like the sun reflected clearly in water below. Even one who has abandoned worldly actions is bound if his mind is unawakened; even one who has not abandoned the play of delusion is free if his mind is awakened. He whose mind and senses are free is liberated, even if his actions are bound; he whose mind and senses are bound is bound, even if his actions are free. In this world, the senses and mind are the cause of perceiving pleasure and pain, as well as bondage and liberation—just as light causes illumination. Outwardly, conform to the customs of the world, but inwardly, remain free from all conduct; stand as if unattached, with all desires completely pacified. While abiding in your own self, with all desires abandoned, perform the actions that must be done; this is the state of equanimity. Do not fall into the deep pit of intense possessiveness, on the path of worldly existence, which is a great whirlpool of affliction and disease, O seeker of the highest good. You are not in the objects, nor are the objects in you, O lotus-eyed one; your nature is pure, awakened, and established in the self—be steadfast. If, O great one, you attain that spotless state where the darkness of possessiveness is dispelled, all desires are gone, and the mind is radiant, then I bow to you, who are truly wise and noble. Then, O Bhārgava, just as a king enters a city, leaving behind this body scorched by the sun, let us enter this new body, O noble one. At the proper time, having performed austerity with the former body, you must again assume the greatness of the lords of the demons, O sinless one. When the end of a great aeon arrives, O Bhargava, this body is to be abandoned, never to be taken up again, like a withered flower. Having attained the state of liberation while living, remain, O wise one, performing the role of the great preceptor of the gods, with your former body. May good fortune be with you both; we shall go in the direction we desire. For whose mind is there anything that is not as they wish? Having spoken thus, as they released the flower, he vanished, like the sun disappearing from the sky along with its rays. When that venerable one had departed, having spoken what was destined, Bhargava reflected on the unalterable and fixed course of fate. He entered that youthful and delicate body, dried up by the causes of time, destined to bear future flowers and fruits, just as Mādhava enters a tender creeper. That brāhmaṇa body, pale in face and limbs, trembled and quickly fell to the ground, like a creeper whose root has been cut. When the great sage entered the body of his son, he performed a rite of restoration with mantras and water from his water-pot. Then all the slender one’s channels became filled, shining forth like river hollows brimming with water in the rainy season. She was like a lotus in the rains, or a new vine in spring; when she was full, her vital energies blossomed forth. Then the semen arose, carried by the moving breath, as if a cloud, filled by the union of sap and wind, were swelling to fullness. He, pure in form, respectfully greeted his father, like a newly awakened cloud saluting the mountain with its first thunder. Then the father embraced her former body, his heart softened with affection, like a rain-cloud long embracing the mountain slope. Bhrigu beheld, with affection, the former body of his daughter; the thought, ‘This one is born from me,’ seizes even the wise. At that moment, the affection, ‘This is my son,’ seized even Bhrigu; for as long as form endures, the sense of ‘mine’ persists. Then the two became father and son, each enhancing the other’s radiance, like the sun and a lotus pond rejoicing at the end of night.