Tale 23 · The Vāsiṣṭha Atlas
Upaśama · Dissolution · Mitra V.58–63 · 7,108 words
A king who judged from stillness, and called that stillness samādhi.
Suraghu, elected chief of the Kirātas on Kailāsa, is tormented by his duty to reward and punish: punishment wounds his people, while mercy lets the wicked destroy the good. The sage Māṇḍavya tells him to ask "what am I". Alone, Suraghu dismantles each identification (the mountain, the city that "the consent of the people" gave him, flesh, bones, organs, senses, mind, even the living soul) until only pure intellect remains, and "the soul sits silent as a spectator of this scene". He rests "as in a state of sound sleep", then rules for a century, unshaken, his "entranced soul" enjoying "its anaesthesia in every state of his life". Later his friend Parigha, who fled a famine into the forest and became the leaf-eating sage, visits and asks whether Suraghu rests in samādhi. Suraghu answers that true samādhi is knowledge, not posture, that stillness forced to a dead lock breaks, and that rest and restlessness differ only in name.
Moral distress in a decision-maker comes from identifying with every consequence; Suraghu's dilemma (V.58.16–19) eases once he sees his office as something conferred, not as himself (V.59.4–8).
Inquiry is self-administered: Māṇḍavya gives the questions and leaves (V.58.32; V.59.1), and the change happens when Suraghu sits alone and asks them.
A layered negation (place, office, possessions, body, senses, mind, living soul) works as a deepening ladder that ends in rest "as in a state of sound sleep" (V.59.3–38).
Trance can be carried into action: for a century Suraghu rules with an "entranced soul" (V.60.9–10); equanimity is a state one governs from, not a place one retreats to.
Stillness forced to a "dead lock" breaks (V.62.13); true samādhi is the knowledge that burns desire, "rather than the sedentariness and taciturnity" of the recluse (V.62.8).
The Vāsiṣṭha Atlas
Suraghu’s office makes him feel the author of every harm: ‘my punishment and mercy to men are both grievous to me’ (V.58.19), the Guilt wound of the conscientious ruler. Inquiry shows him his office as something conferred and the soul as ‘a spectator of this scene’ (V.59.29), and the gift inside his scruple appears: he keeps judging for a century, now without self-punishment, which is Forgiveness as the paper defines it, accountability without guilt as an identity.
Suraghu tells Parigha that samādhi is knowledge, not posture, and that stillness stretched to a dead lock breaks (V.62.8; V.62.13); his century of rule shows attention steady in every activity without effortful suppression (V.60.9).
Patañjali’s seer is pure seeing that beholds the contents of the mind; Suraghu’s image of the world as a stage where the mind acts while ‘the soul sits silent as a spectator’ (V.59.29) gives a leader that same position in the middle of decisions.
Act established in yoga, letting go of attachment, even in success and failure: Suraghu’s rule after inquiry is this evenness, rewards and punishments still given, their weight no longer carried as his own.
The Satipaṭṭhāna Sutta asks for clear knowing while walking, standing, sitting and lying down; Suraghu’s ‘entranced soul’ that persists ‘when he sat and slept, as also when he moved about’ (V.60.9) is the Yoga Vāsiṣṭha’s version of awareness carried through every posture.
IEAF: Integrative Emotional Alchemy Framework (Gallardo, Frontiers in Psychology, 2026). FP20: the Fundamental Peace Scale. ITM: the Integrative Transformation Model. Parallels in other yogas are contemplative correspondences, not claims of influence.
On the snowy peak of Kailāsa lived a race of Kirātas who sheltered in hollow trees and sold rudrākṣa wood. Their chief, Suraghu, was brave, rich and learned, and he dispensed rewards and punishments as steadily as the sun keeps its course. But he could not stop thinking about the pain his judgments caused. "Why do I perforce pierce the hearts of my people", he asked, when all are capable of pain like himself? Yet if he spared the tormentors of the good, the good would be destroyed. Punishment and mercy were both grievous to him, and his thoughts whirled like water in an eddy.
The sage Māṇḍavya visited his house. Suraghu begged him to heal this doubt, for "A doubt festering in the heart is said to be the greatest pain of man". Māṇḍavya answered that doubts melt only by one's own exertion and discrimination. Examine your organs and faculties; ask what am I, whence all these things, what is this life and what is this death. As you come to know your nature you will stand like a rock against wind and waves; you will find yourself greater than sky and ocean together, and the world will no more engulf you than a bullock's hoof-print engulfs an elephant. Leave all particulars; what remains when the mind and its creations are expunged is the supreme soul. Then the sage went home.
Suraghu retired to a lonely place and reasoned. I am not this mountain, nor is it mine. This city is not mine: "it is the consent of the people that has made me the ruler of the place", and without that election I am nobody here. Its flags, gardens, horses and soldiers are nothing to me. I am not the flesh, not the bones, not the organs of action, not nourishment, not the senses, not the mind, not the understanding; not even the living soul that is roused by objects. What remains is the pure, immutable intellect, the thread on which the worlds are strung like pearls. The world is a stage on which the mind acts while the soul sits silent as a spectator. My painful thoughts about punishment concerned what perishes with the body. Hailing the light that blazed upon him, he rested in his tranquil soul "as in a state of sound sleep, and in utter oblivion of all my internal and external impressions".
From then on he ruled unmoved, neither kind nor unkind, neither glad nor angry, grave as the ocean beneath the clamour of his people, his "entranced soul" enjoying "its anaesthesia in every state of his life", sitting, sleeping or acting. He reigned for a full century and then left his body of his own accord, mingling with the Supreme like the air of a broken pot with the sky.
When Rāma asked what such samādhi is, Vasiṣṭha told of Suraghu's friend Parigha, king of the Pahlavas. When drought and famine killed multitudes, Parigha, unable to save his people, left his capital unseen and lived in a mountain cave on dry leaves, so that the sages called him the leaf-eater. After many years he gained knowledge, wandered the three worlds with the siddhas, and came to Suraghu's city of Hemajaṭa. The two friends embraced and sat on one seat "as when the sun and moon are in conjunction". Parigha asked after the realm, Suraghu's health and peace, and whether he rested in samādhi, "transcendental Coma or trance".
Suraghu replied: how can one who knows the supreme be called unentranced, even while attending to worldly affairs, and how can one whose mind is unsubdued be in samādhi merely by sitting in padmāsana? The knowledge that burns desire like straw is the true samādhi; stillness stretched to a dead lock breaks like a lotus fibre pulled too far. "I find myself to be enlightened and wakeful", he said, his mind tranquil on all occasions; rest and restlessness are "a mere verbal distinction". Parigha praised his calm; Suraghu concluded that, since nothing in the world is worth desiring, there is nothing to hate either: it is enough to keep desire subdued and the mind even under all conditions, with inward calm and regard for all.
Passages from Mitra’s translation (1891–99), cited by book, chapter and verse.
“Oh! the painful dilemma in which I am placed, wherein my punishment and mercy to men are both grievous to me, or pleasing and unpleasing to me by turns.”“Consider in thy mind (such things as these); as what am I, what and whence are all these things; and what means this our life, and what is this death that waits upon it? These inquiries will surely set thee to eminence.”“When you attain to such greatness, your mind will no more dive into worldly affairs; as the big elephant will not be engulfed in the hole made by the bullock’s hoof.”“This world is a stage, stretched out by the mind its chief actor, and the soul sits silent as a spectator of this scene, under the light of the intellect.”“Being freed from the paintings of my mind, and cleared from the dross of the sensible objects, and also released from the errors of this world; I rest myself, in the lap of my tranquil soul, as in a state of sound sleep, and in utter oblivion of all my internal and external impressions.”“His mind was enlightened, and his entranced soul enjoyed its anaesthesia in every state of his life; and was full in itself both when he sat and slept, as also when he moved about or did any thing.”“The knowledge of truth which burns away all worldly desires as straws, is termed the true catalepsy (_samádhi_) of the soul; rather than the sedentariness and taciturnity observed by secluded devotees.”“But this pause of _samádhi_ being stretched too far to a dead lock, is liable to break down by itself; as the fibre of a lotus-stalk upon its being drawn too long by the hand of a boy.”“Great men of quiescent spirits, continue always in an even and uniform tone and tenor of their minds with themselves; therefore the difference betwixt the rest and restlessness of the soul, is a mere verbal distinction, and bear no shade of difference and in their signification.”In the text"This world is a stage, stretched out by the mind its chief actor, and the soul sits silent as a spectator of this scene"; the same mind "causes the error of my kingship in me" (59.26).
In the clinicThe observing self (Deikman 1982): the decision-maker watches mind and role as a play, reducing fusion with outcomes, close to cognitive defusion in acceptance-based therapies.
In the textSuccessive negations ("I am not in this mountain", not the Kirāta habitation, not the government, not flesh, bones, organs, nourishment, senses, mind or understanding, nor the "intelligible intelligence") end in "I rest myself, in the lap of my tranquil soul, as in a state of sound sleep" (59.38).
In the clinicA self-administered deepening ladder in which each step narrows identification, structurally like a counted deepener with conceptual steps in place of numbers.
In the text"you will remain unchanged by your joys and griefs, as a firm rock" (58.33); "you will find yourself to be of greater magnitude, than the extent of the sky and ocean put together" (58.37); "the big elephant will not be engulfed in the hole made by the bullock’s hoof" (58.38).
In the clinicEgo-strengthening (Hartland 1965) through stability and expansion imagery: the self is enlarged until the problem appears small.
In the text"he remained quiet in every state of pleasure and pain" (60.8); "his entranced soul enjoyed its anaesthesia in every state of his life" (60.9).
In the clinicReduction of the suffering component of pain, as in hypnotic analgesia (Hilgard & Hilgard 1975), applied here to the emotional pain of judgment and loss.
In the textHe "continued as firm and unmoved, amidst the righteous and wrongful acts of his subjects, as a rock" (60.3) and "continued for a full century to reign over his realm with his mind unattached to state affairs" (60.10).
In the clinicPersistence of a trance-derived resource state through a lifetime of action, comparable to anchoring a calm state for use under decision load and to alert hypnosis (Bányai & Hilgard 1976).
In the text"this pause of samádhi being stretched too far to a dead lock, is liable to break down by itself" (62.13); a soul unconscious of itself "has no knowledge of the course of time; as in the state of sleep, delirium and insensibility" (62.19).
In the clinicA classical warning against forced or over-extended trance: rigid stillness collapses and long unconsciousness loses track of time, so good practice keeps the thread of awareness and a path back.
Read upward — stage 1 at the bottom, stage 7 at the top
Integration zone
Pure-awareness trance and silent presence — not another state to enter but the ground recognised in every state. Jīvanmukti; Fundamental Peace.
Integration zone
Perceptual shift — the boundaries of things soften; consciousness expands past its usual partitions.
Integration zone
Post-trance integration — sustained non-reactivity carried into behaviour; what was seen in depth becomes how one lives.
Integration zone
Hypnotic absorption meets direct knowing — identity deconstruction at full depth. This is YVH's primary therapeutic zone, and the model's central testable hypothesis.
Integration zone
Progressive relaxation and deepening — the habitual self loosens enough for new pattern to take.
Integration zone
Self-inquiry joined to guided suggestion — narrative reframing and Socratic dialogue inside a gently focused state.
Integration zone
Therapeutic motivation — disillusionment with suffering becomes readiness for change. The first honest wish to be free is itself the induction.
A note on what this map claims. The alignment between stages of knowledge and trance depths is a clinical map — a heuristic correspondence proposed for research, not a claim of identity between contemplative attainment and hypnotic depth.
Bhūmikā 5 · Asaṃsakti
A century of rule with an "entranced soul … full in itself both when he sat and slept, as also when he moved about" (V.60.9) is Mitra's fifth stage, "partly waking and partly sleeping … half hypnotism" (VI.1.120.3), and his "mind unattached to state affairs" (V.60.10) is asaṃsakti exactly.
Zone · Somnambulistic
The tale's state is trance that walks, rules and judges with open eyes (V.60.9; V.62.5–6, V.62.21–25); the brief "sound sleep" of V.59.38 is the deep entry from which this active state is carried.
In Calcutta in the 1890s, the translator chose the vocabulary of hypnotism to name these states. More →
His mind was enlightened, and his entranced soul enjoyed its anaesthesia in every state of his life; and was full in itself both when he sat and slept, as also when he moved about or did any thing.V.60.9Having this holy sight in your view, and by your preaching this light to others, do you continue to enjoy this uniform _insouciance_ (Samádhi) in yourself, and shine forth as a bright gem before the world.V.61.4Ráma said:—Tell me O chief of sages, what is this uniform _insouciance_, and set my mind at rest, which is now fluttering like the plumes of a peacock discomposed by the winds.V.61.5Do you rely, sir, in that state of perfect rest which is free from desire; and do you rest in that state of supineness—_samádhi_, which is styled transcendental Coma or trance (paramopsama)?V.62.3Suraghu replied:—Tell me sir, what you mean by the abandonment of all desires; and what is meant by that perfect lethargy, which they call as transcendental coma or trance.V.62.4Tell me, O high minded Sir, how can that man be called unentranced, who is enrapt in his supreme intelligence (or knowledge of the supreme), and at the same time is attendant to his worldly concerns.V.62.5Men of enlightened understandings, however, they are employed in the observance of their usual worldly affairs, are yet said to be enraptured with their knowledge of the solity of the supreme soul.V.62.6The knowledge of truth which burns away all worldly desires as straws, is termed the true catalepsy (_samádhi_) of the soul; rather than the sedentariness and taciturnity observed by secluded devotees.V.62.8As the lifeless soul has no perception of any external object; so the soul unconscious of itself, has no knowledge of the course of time; as in the state of sleep, delirium and insensibility.V.62.19Indications. Moral distress and decision fatigue in leaders, judges, clinicians and parents (V.58.14–20); the term moral distress was coined in nursing ethics for exactly Suraghu's predicament, knowing what must be done and suffering in doing it (Jameton 1984). Caregiver and compassion fatigue (Figley 1995). Over-identification with an office or title, and the fear of losing it (V.59.4–8). The choice between withdrawing from duty and staying in it, which Parigha and Suraghu represent (V.61–62). Teaching eyes-open, active-alert self-hypnosis for use at work.
How to use it. As a short self-administered ritual before difficult decisions: the dilemma named, the questions asked, the ladder descended, the spectator's seat taken, and the decision reviewed from there.
Cautions. Equanimity is not indifference to harm: the tale must never be used to justify detachment from real ethical obligations or from others' suffering. "Anaesthesia" to emotion can mask depression or emotional numbing; distinguish calm from blunted affect, and screen for depression where a client reports feeling nothing. People in acute grief, Parigha among his famine dead (V.61.11–13), need support before any inquiry into the unreality of loss. Do not prescribe prolonged stillness; the text itself warns that over-stretched samādhi breaks (V.62.13).
Practise with a qualified professional if you have a history of dissociation, trauma or psychosis.
The Ruler's Sitting Before Judgment
Ten to twelve minutes, before a decision that weighs on you.
Before you begin. This is a practice for clear-headed adults facing a hard choice. It is not for decisions made in acute grief or crisis; seek support first. If you have a history of depression with numbness, or of depersonalisation, use it with a clinician. Do not practise while driving. Sit upright in a chair.
How to return at any moment. Open your eyes, put your hands on the desk or your thighs, and say the decision aloud in one sentence.
Name the dilemma exactly, both horns. If I do this, these will suffer. If I do not, those will. Say it once, plainly, and let it be true.
Close your eyes. You have withdrawn for a few minutes to a quiet place. The sage has given you the questions and gone home.
Ask them slowly. What am I? Where do all these things come from? What is this life? What is this death? Do not answer. Let each settle like snow.
Now step down the ladder. On each out-breath, one rung.
I am not this place. Breathe out.
I am not this office. It was given; it will be given again. Breathe out.
I am not these possessions. Breathe out.
I am not this body, this flesh, these bones. Breathe out.
I am not these senses. I am not this restless mind. Breathe out.
What remains? Do not name it. Rest there, a moment, as if in sound sleep.
Now see the stage. On it, the mind plays its part: the ruler, the decision, the people. You sit in the dark of the hall, silent, watching. You can see the whole play from here.
From that seat, look at the decision again. Without anger. Without favour. Let it be what it is.
(Silence: one minute.)
Keep the calm as a thread, not a lock. Do not hold it tight.
Feel the chair, the floor, your hands. Breathe in fully.
I will count from one to five. One: breath. Two: hands and feet. Three: the sounds of the room. Four: a deep breath, shoulders back. Five: eyes open, alert, here.
Say your name, the time and the task in front of you. Then return to act.
Meta Pets World · Your ally · Meta Pet 50
I am the cosmic butterfly in metamorphosis.
Suraghu’s justice has gone out of true: every punishment wounds, every mercy lets the cruel destroy the good, and his thoughts whirl like an eddy. That bent balance is The Cosmic Butterfly’s Shadow, Corruption. Inquiry gives him Equilibrium, the office seen as conferred and not as himself, and he rules for a century in Harmony, his ‘entranced soul’ even in every state.
Corruption is the balance bent out of shape inside the judge: ‘the painful dilemma in which I am placed, wherein my punishment and mercy to men are both grievous to me’ (V.58.19).
Equilibrium comes when he sits alone with Māṇḍavya’s questions, ‘what am I… what is this life, and what is this death’ (V.58.32), and sees that the world is a stage on which the mind acts while ‘the soul sits silent as a spectator’ (V.59.29).
Harmony is a century of rule from stillness: ‘his entranced soul enjoyed its anaesthesia in every state of his life… when he sat and slept, as also when he moved about’ (V.60.9); rest and restlessness become ‘a mere verbal distinction’ (V.62.25).
Carrying a decision that hurts either way? Sit with me a minute, like Suraghu. You are not the crown, only the one who wears it today. Now look again, from the quiet.
If the butterfly was always cosmic and the cocoon was the dream, in which decision are you still mistaking the office you hold for who you are?
Tonight, write one honest sentence about a judgement you made today and the part of you that suffered for it.
Light trance, eyes open if you prefer. For the full, deeper script, see “The practice” above and its cautions.
The butterfly was always cosmic; the crown was only conferred: today, which cocoon of office am I dreaming I am?
Bulgarian Orthodox · Veliko Tarnovo, Bulgaria · Hospodi Pomiluj
Visit Reni, the Bulgarian Orthodox mystery-singer of Veliko Tarnovo, whose close harmonies hold dissonance without breaking, and whose ‘Hospodi Pomiluj’, Lord have mercy, keeps mercy beside justice as Suraghu learned to.
Guided Meditation
#50 · The Cosmic Butterfly
Aim. To ease moral distress and decision fatigue by separating the person from the office, so that they can decide from steadiness rather than from identification with every consequence.
ITM 4 Essence Embodiment. Suraghu’s teaching is Essence Embodiment: equilibrium is not a retreat but a state he governs from, ‘when he moved about or did any thing’ (V.60.9).
This tale suits circles of leaders, clinicians, judges, teachers and parents. After the Umbral and the tale, ask each person to write their current dilemma with both horns on one side of a card. Guide the ladder of ‘not’ at light depth for the whole group, ending eyes-open, and ask them to write on the reverse what the decision looks like from the spectator’s seat. Share in threes, keeping confidentiality explicit, and close by naming together the difference between equanimity and indifference before the affirmation.
Training and certification in the Meta Pets Method: metapetsworld.org/facilitators ↗
The correspondence between tales and Meta Pets is contemplative: the Yoga Vāsiṣṭha does not contain the Meta Pets; each tale enacts its ally’s arc. Felicia is an artificial-intelligence companion; her words are contemplative reflections, not clinical advice.
From the cycle The Sixty-Four Tales
Figure — Suraghu, chief of the Kirātas of Hemajaṭa on Kailāsa, and his friend Parigha, the leaf-eater.
Where in the text — Book V (Upaśama-prakaraṇa), Mitra chapters 58–63.
Hypnotic phenomenon the song enacts — DEEP into WIT: the second verse walks down the ladder of "not", one negation per line over a falling bass, to the spectator's seat of the chorus, and that witness is carried unchanged into a century of judging (PHS) and onto one seat shared by two kings.
Mantra — Neti neti · Oṃ śāntiḥ (नेति नेति · ॐ शान्तिः). Sources: "neti neti", Bṛhadāraṇyaka Upaniṣad 2.3.6 (athāta ādeśo neti neti); "Oṃ śāntiḥ", the closing of the Upanishadic peace invocations (śānti-pāṭha). Meaning: "Not this, not this. Om — peace."
Performance: a king's gait in 4/4 throughout. In Verse 2 the bass steps down one degree on every "not", and the low choir murmurs "neti neti" beneath. The chorus opens into a wider register. Verse 3 is Parigha's voice, sparser. In the second chorus Parigha's voice joins Suraghu's on one melody: sun and moon on one seat.
Verse 1 — Suraghu On Kailāsa I judge my people as the sun keeps its course, but I press their hearts like sesame for oil. Spare the cruel, and the good are lost; my mercy hurts, my punishment hurts.
Verse 2 — the ladder (neti neti beneath) I am not this mountain. It is not mine. The people's consent made me king; without it I am nobody. Not flags, not horses, not soldiers, not flesh, not bones, not senses, not mind — something besides all these.
Chorus The world is a stage and the mind plays the king; the soul sits silent and watches: a rock in the breaking waves, the deep sea under the clamouring crowd, a flame in air without wind.
Verse 3 — Parigha "Famine came and I could not feed them; I left my city like a burnt town, ate dry leaves in a mountain cave till they called me the leaf-eater." The friends embrace and share one seat like the sun and moon in conjunction. "Do you rest, my friend, in samādhi?"
Chorus (both voices, one melody) The world is a stage and the mind plays the king; the soul sits silent and watches: a rock in the breaking waves, the deep sea under the clamouring crowd, two flames in air without wind.
Bridge (mantra) Neti neti (not this, not this) Oṃ śāntiḥ (Om, peace)
Outro — Suraghu, almost spoken "Not by sitting cross-legged with folded palms: the knowing that burns desire like straw is samādhi. Stretch stillness to a dead lock and it snaps like a lotus fibre in a boy's hand. I sit, I sleep, I walk, I judge; rest and restlessness are only words." A century he ruled, and did not tremble.
Interpretación: paso de rey en 4/4 de principio a fin. En el verso 2 el bajo baja un grado en cada "no", y el coro grave murmura "neti neti" por debajo. El estribillo se abre a un registro más amplio. El verso 3 es la voz de Parigha, más desnuda. En el segundo estribillo la voz de Parigha se une a la de Suraghu en una sola melodía: sol y luna en un mismo asiento.
Verso 1 — Suraghu En Kailāsa juzgo a mi pueblo como el sol sigue su curso, pero les prenso el corazón como sésamo para el aceite. Si perdono al cruel, se pierde el bueno; me duele la clemencia, me duele el castigo.
Verso 2 — la escalera (neti neti por debajo) No soy esta montaña. No es mía. El consentimiento del pueblo me hizo rey; sin él no soy nadie. Ni banderas, ni caballos, ni soldados, ni carne, ni huesos, ni sentidos, ni mente: algo además de todo esto.
Estribillo El mundo es un teatro y la mente hace de rey; el alma se sienta en silencio y mira: una roca entre las olas que rompen, el mar hondo bajo el clamor del pueblo, una llama en el aire sin viento.
Verso 3 — Parigha "Llegó el hambre y no pude alimentarlos; dejé mi ciudad como un pueblo en cenizas, comí hojas secas en una cueva del monte hasta que me llamaron el come-hojas." Los amigos se abrazan y comparten un asiento como el sol y la luna en conjunción. "¿Descansas, amigo, en samādhi?"
Estribillo (las dos voces, una melodía) El mundo es un teatro y la mente hace de rey; el alma se sienta en silencio y mira: una roca entre las olas que rompen, el mar hondo bajo el clamor del pueblo, dos llamas en el aire sin viento.
Puente (mantra) Neti neti (no esto, no esto) Oṃ śāntiḥ (Om, paz)
Final — Suraghu, casi hablado "No es sentarse en loto con las palmas juntas: el saber que quema el deseo como paja, eso es samādhi. Estira la quietud hasta trabarla y se rompe como fibra de loto en la mano de un niño. Me siento, duermo, camino, juzgo; reposo e inquietud son solo palabras." Un siglo entero reinó, y no tembló.
EN: Watch the play from the silent seat, and judge without trembling. ES: Mira la función desde el asiento callado, y juzga sin temblar.
A song for anyone whose decisions hurt. Suraghu, made chief by his people's consent, presses their hearts like sesame for oil and cannot bear it. The sage Māṇḍavya sends him inward with one question, and he walks down the ladder of "not" — not the mountain, not the crown, not flesh or mind — until the soul sits silent, watching the play. Then he goes back and rules a full century without trembling. The clinician's resource is plain: a witness the trance leaves behind in the waking chair. Steady four-four, a bass that steps down with every "not", neti neti murmured underneath, and two kings on one seat, singing one line.
Source: Vihari-Lala Mitra, The Yoga-Vasishtha Maharamayana of Valmiki (1891–99), public domain.
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Educational and scholarly content. Hypnotherapy and regression material is complementary and not a substitute for medical or psychiatric care.
