With a thousand arms branching out and filling the expanse of the sky, the great tree stood as if the very cosmic form itself were dancing, adorned with the sun and moon as its radiant earrings. At its base rested a mighty king of mountains, while above, the sky shimmered with a multitude of stars. In its midst, the tree resembled another earth, woven of blossoming vines and greenery. It was like the ancient ancestor of all trees and forests—a single, magnificent repository on earth for fruits, tender shoots, and blossoms of every kind. Clusters of buds, hidden beneath the dust of countless flowers, veiled its beauty, just as the sky is hidden by sunlight and a network of stars over the riverbanks. Its branches swayed with restless birds and were crowded with nests, making the earth below seem alive with the bustle of villages. Adorned with banners of flowering sprays and festooned with bowers of vines, the tree gleamed white with masses of blossoms, overflowing with heaps of fragrant flowers. The air was filled with the calls of partridges, antelopes, parrots, cuckoos, and starlings. Its hollowed branches, tucked beneath dense clusters of blooms, were like secret windows. Within these hollows, birds moved languidly, intoxicated by nectar, as if those spaces were the inner chambers of woodland goddesses. Swarms of bees, waves of fragrance, and heaps of flower pollen surrounded the tree, making it shine as if mountain streams were cascading down its sides. All around, drifting showers of petals played gently in the breeze, encircling the tree as if it were a mountain embraced by shining white clouds. Its base was pressed by the knees and broad backs of elephants rubbing against it, yet it stood firm like a great mountain rooted in its own slopes. Flocks of birds with many-colored wings moved through the hollows of its branches, so that the tree resembled a horned mountain teeming with various beings. The restless network of clustered twigs appeared to gesture, as if the forest winds were making the vines dance. The tree seemed to dance itself, garlands of flowers swaying like circling vines, and only those free from desire could depart from it content. Beloved only by the vines that clung to it, the tree overflowed with the flavor of love, as if singing melodiously with the calls of intoxicated bees. From afar, with its newly blossomed flowers, it welcomed the sky-traveling siddhas, greeting them with the cries of cuckoos and the buzzing of bees. The trees around, heavy with fruits and blossoms, seemed to rejoice in their abundance, laughing with the bright radiance of their buds and blooms. Like a pārijāta tree striving to ascend, its branches and clusters reached ever upward, as if it were rushing into the very sky, its trunk rising boldly high. Swarms of bees hummed in its midst, and dense clusters of thick-petaled flowers made it seem ready to rival Indra himself with its thousand-eyed splendor. Clusters of shining flowers adorned it like the jeweled hoods of serpents, and the tree rose from the earth like the mighty serpent Śeṣa, eager to behold the sky. Its dust-laden form appeared like a second Śaṅkara, and with its fruit-laden shade, it inspired awe in all the sages, just as Śaṅkara does. Dense, leafy branches formed natural walls, and flower-laden creepers created pavilions. The kadamba tree stood like a city in the sky, crowded with flocks of birds as if they were its citizens. Then, the wise one, his mind slowed by joy, beheld the kadamba tree—rich with fruits and tender leaves, resembling a mountain of blossoms. He climbed the kadamba, that great pillar of the forest standing upon the earth, just as Viṣṇu once ascended the wish-fulfilling tree rising alone from the ocean. There, at the tip of a branch reaching into the sky, she entered the open space, like the mind of a monkey at the end of a branch. Sitting down on a soft, fresh bed of new leaves, she gazed in wonder at the directions around her. She saw rows of rivers adorned with lovely banks, mountain peaks rising like the breasts of great hills, clear skies veiled with clouds, and blue lotuses swaying gently. Clad in blue-green grass, with limbs pale as flowers and bearing pitchers filled with ocean water, they adorned the city. Holding blossoming lotuses, with fragrant breezes for faces, the villages hummed with the calls of crows, while the waterfalls resounded like anklets. With the sky as their crown and the earth as their feet, the forests formed their lines of hair, the wilds their broad hips, and the moon and sun their earrings. Marked by rice fields and sandalwood groves, their peaks were draped in the white garments of snow and clouds. Mirroring the fresh adornment of the ocean's waters, their forests bristled with trees, becoming the inner chambers of the world. They wore garments washed in the waters of spring, adorned with the saffron rays of the sun, decorated with various flowers, and smeared with sandalwood as pale as moonlight. Seated on the broad leaf of a creeper in the sky, surrounded by streams of forest vines and breezes, he joyfully beheld the women of the three worlds, each direction adorned continuously with flowers. From that time onward, he became renowned in that hermitage of ascetics as Kadamba Dāśūra, a hero steadfast in severe austerity. There, seated upon the leaf of a creeper, he gazed at the quarters for a moment, then firmly assumed the lotus posture, withdrawing his mind from all directions. Unaware of the highest truth and engaged only in ritual, with a mind devoted to offering the fruits of action, he performed a sacrifice. Dwelling in the forest, seated upon the leaf of a creeper in the sky, he performed all sacrificial rites in order, solely with his mind. For ten years, he worshipped the gods mentally with sacrifices—those involving cows, horses, and even humans—offering abundant gifts. As time passed and his mind became pure, knowledge arising from the grace of the self forcefully entered within him.