As the seeker reflected, he realized that true attainment could only be gained by mastery of the mind. Yet, he lamented to his mountain teacher that, out of ignorance, he had squandered this opportunity, much like a child possessed by a yaksha, unable to control himself. He yearned for the day when his mind, having found its own peace and freed from the turmoil of worldly existence, would experience happiness as pure as a child who has found its beloved. He wondered when his mind, purified and free from agitation and curiosity, would rest in the boundless path and become truly sanctified. He longed for the moment when, having settled in a place cooler than the moon and filled with the fullness of art and melody, he would laugh at the world’s concerns. He aspired for his mind to abandon its fragile form, merge into the Self, and attain peace, like a wave dissolving completely in water. He questioned when he would cross the ocean of worldly existence, agitated by waves of craving and adorned with the crocodile of illusion, and finally become free from the fever of suffering. He hoped that, in peaceful and pure paths, he and other wise seekers of liberation would dwell free from sorrow, seeing all with equal vision. He prayed for the fever of transmigration, which afflicts every limb and element, to finally subside in his mind. He addressed his intellect, saying that just as a lamp’s flame in a windless place becomes steady and free of distortion, so would the intellect attain tranquility upon realizing its own radiance. He awaited the day when his senses, scorched by the fire of futile striving, would effortlessly cross over suffering, rising like Garuda from the ocean. He wondered when the delusion of ‘I am this, this is mine’ would subside, like an autumn cloud finally dissipating. He compared the pleasures of the delicate mandara groves to trivial things and yearned to attain the true state which is truly his own. He asked whether the pure vision of knowledge, spoken by those free from passion, would ever be firmly established in his mind. He wished never again to be addressed by the words ‘father, mother, son,’ for he knew that the mind is the vessel of bondage and the food for those who partake in suffering. He implored his intellect, his sister, to quickly fulfill his brother’s request: for release from suffering, to reflect upon the sage’s words. He recognized that calamity approached him with affection, as a mother does her child in existence, and resolved to be firmly established in what is to come, for the destruction of worldly existence. He recalled that the sage Vasiṣṭha had first described those who are detached, then the conduct of one seeking liberation, and thereafter the sequence of their arising. He remembered the section on stability, adorned with various beautiful examples and filled with knowledge, and resolved to recall it fully and properly. He understood that even if something is examined hundreds of times, if the mind does not accept it, it remains fruitless—like autumn clouds; therefore, only the mind is the essence of accomplishment. With such thoughts and noble contemplation, the night passed for him there, as it does for a lotus longing for the sun. Some darkness lingered in the corners, and some redness appeared; then, as the stars thinned in the directions, it seemed as though Rāma and Sītā were present. With the sound of morning trumpets, the illustrious Rāghava, whose face resembled the moon, arose, like a lotus emerging from a lotus pond. Having completed all his morning duties, and accompanied by his brothers and a measured retinue, he went to the residence of Vasiṣṭha. He saw the sage, absorbed in meditation and devoted to the Self, sitting alone. From a distance, Rāma bowed to him with a lowered neck. The women, filled with humility, bowed and stood as long as the darkness that had enveloped the directions was dispelled. Kings, princes, sages, and brahmins came to the silent dwelling, like immortals to the world of Brahma. The residence of Vasiṣṭha became crowded with people, filled with elephants, horses, and chariots, shining like a royal palace. In a moment, the venerable Vasiṣṭha emerged from his meditation. With proper conduct, he received the people who had bowed to him. Then, accompanied by sages and attended by Viśvāmitra, the illustrious sage swiftly mounted his chariot, like the lotus-born god ascending a lotus. He went to the house of Daśaratha, surrounded by a great army, like Brahmā entering Indra’s city attended by all the gods. There he entered the spacious and delightful assembly hall of Daśaratha, like a royal swan entering a lotus pond, followed by a flock of swans. At that moment, Daśaratha, the mighty king, quickly took three steps from his throne and came forth. All the kings, including Daśaratha, entered, as well as sages such as Vasiṣṭha, seers, and brāhmaṇas. Also present were ministers like Sumantra, learned priests like Dhaumya, royal princes such as Rāma, sons of ministers, and close companions. There were feudal lords and officials, citizens like Suhotra, servants from Mālava and elsewhere, and city-dwellers and attendants as well. All of them, having taken their appropriate places and seats, sat with their gaze directed toward Vasiṣṭha. In that tranquil assembly, where the bustle had quieted, the bards were silent, questions about affairs had been asked, and the atmosphere was gentle. In the soft sunlight of the young day, resembling a mass of vermilion dust, the reflection played on the surface of the canopy. The hem of a garland quivered, entering the hollow of a lotus; on the padmarāga gems, covered with restless pearl necklaces, it sparkled. From the great flower-swinging branches spread all around, the sweet breeze carried a rich fragrance, filling the assembly with serenity and auspiciousness.