By faithfully serving noble and renowned teachers, and by carefully examining the precious jewel of one’s own mind with a pure intellect, a person in this world can attain a stainless state—one that is reached after long contemplation upon the inner light. Thus, the general path for all beings has been described. But now, O lotus-eyed Rama, listen as I reveal to you a further distinction. In this tumultuous world, where souls have taken on bodies, there are, O Rama, two excellent ways that lead toward liberation. The first is gradual: it is achieved by following the practices taught by a teacher, progressing slowly and steadily, whether over one life or many. This path is known to grant perfection in due course. The second way is swift: sometimes, by the power of their own insight, a person suddenly attains knowledge, just as a ripe fruit falls from the sky in an instant. To help you understand this sudden attainment—this knowledge that descends like a fruit from the heavens—listen now to this ancient story. Hear, O fortunate one, how those of great merit, whose past deeds have been purified, come to supreme and pure discernment, as suddenly and completely as a fruit falling from the sky. There once lived a king among the Videhas, named Janaka. His intellect was noble, all calamities had vanished from his life, his prosperity was ever-increasing, and he was endowed with great strength. To those seeking favors, he was like a wish-fulfilling tree; among his friends, he shone like the sun amidst lotuses; for his kin, he was the spring that brought forth blossoms; and for women, he was the very banner of love. To the twice-born, he was like the cool moon shining upon lilies. To his enemies, he was the sun that dispelled their darkness. He was an ocean of noble virtues, and on earth, he stood like Vishnu himself. One spring, amidst blossoming young creepers and clusters of flower buds, King Janaka wandered where intoxicated cuckoos sang joyfully. He entered a grove adorned with blooming vines—a delightful and charming place, as if Indra himself were enjoying the beauty of the Nandana garden. In that splendid forest, filled with the fragrance of kesara flowers carried on gentle breezes, he wandered through lovely bowers, his attendants respectfully remaining at a distance. Then, in a thicket of tamāla trees, he overheard the words of invisible siddhas, the perfected beings, as they spoke among themselves. These were songs, filled with the essence of realization, sung by those with detached minds who always dwell in mountain caves. “We worship that pure essence of self,” they sang, “which arises from the union of seer and seen, and is the certainty of bliss born of direct knowledge. Abandoning the seer, the seeing, and the seen, along with all impressions, we worship the self—the first light of awareness. We always worship the self, which is without appearance, without mental construction, incomparable to any manifestation, and whose experience is the contemplation of non-being. We worship that Self, the illuminator of illuminations, which always abides in the middle of the two positions—existence and non-existence. We worship our own Self, which is without head or form, established in all forms, and constantly resounds without ceasing. Those who abandon the Lord dwelling in the cave of the heart and seek another deity are like those who cast away the Kaustubha gem held in their own hand, and then desire a lesser jewel. Truly, by abandoning all desires, this fruit is attained, by which the poisonous root-garland of desires is torn up. Even after realizing the utter hostility in objects, if a foolish person again binds his mind to them, that man is not even a donkey! Again and again, one should destroy these senses—whether they have arisen or not—with the thunderbolt of discrimination, just as Hari shatters mountains with his thunderbolt. Let the pure-hearted one, by the power of tranquility, attain the happiness of peace. With the mind pacified and abiding in one’s own true nature, supreme happiness endures for a long time.” Thus, having heard the songs sung by the hosts of perfected beings, King Janaka was suddenly overcome by despair, just as the timid are struck with fear at the sound of battle. He returned to his palace, drawing his retinue along behind him, like the swelling flood of the rainy season carrying trees on the riverbank toward the ocean. After dismissing his entire retinue, he ascended alone to his lofty chamber, like the sun rising to the mountain peak. Restless, his mind fluttering like the wings of birds at dusk, he gazed upon the ways of the world and lamented in his distress: “Alas, how grievous are these ever-changing states of the world! I am tossed about among stones, like a stone myself, helplessly and in vain. Of endless time, only a fragment is lived by me; yet upon that I fix my thoughts—shame on me, whose mind is so base. How small indeed is this so-called kingdom I have enjoyed in life! What is it worth? Without it, I remain in sorrow, my mind ruined as before. In the beginning and end I am infinite, yet in the middle my life is frail; like a child marveling at the painted moon, why do I stand firm in vain? This world, constructed by the magician of illusion, is a net of magic; alas, I am bewildered—by whom have I been so thoroughly deluded? Whatever is delightful, noble, and genuine—none of that is truly found here; so, upon what should my resolve be fixed? Even what is far away or near, if it occupies my mind, having discerned this, I abandon all mental fixation on external things. The world’s nature is crooked and deceptive, fragile like a whirlpool of water; even now it brings sorrow—so what reliance can there be on it for happiness? Year by year, month by month, day by day, and moment by moment, pleasures are pierced by pain, while pains return again and again. Again and again examined, seen, questioned, and observed—there is nothing here that is not hollow, in which the wise might find abiding. Those who today are at the summit of greatness fall down in a few days; with the mind’s greatness destroyed, how can you place your trust in this?” Thus did King Janaka, shaken to his core by the songs of the siddhas and the nature of the world, reflect deeply upon the truth, seeking the path to supreme peace.