Devkanya's eyes were brimming with tears, her mind immersed in deep darkness. Hearing this from afar, the Guru-father asked, "Is it then true, daughter, that womanhood has always been oppressed?"
The great sage furrowed his brows slightly upon hearing the question, then smiled gently — perhaps understanding the depth of the inquiry. He replied, "Daughter, the soul has no gender — neither male nor female. What varies is the body. And womanhood is not oppressed. The very race for whom the entire creation moves forward cannot be deemed inferior by anyone. When women are dishonored, insulted, or disrespected, it brings calamity upon society. Lord Rudra himself begins the dance of destruction when creation is violated. Every time a woman is wronged, it leads to a profound transformation in society. This is the cycle of creation, preservation, and dissolution."
Devkanya's face began to glow with clarity. The great Guru said, "Let this be enough for today, my child. Now go and fulfill the remaining tasks."
All the girls of the ashram rose from under the sacred tree and went to the Guru-mother. Earlier in the day, she had introduced each of them to nourishing vines, and now began to teach them the art of cooking. Later, she offered them sattvic meals served on lotus leaves. "Eating in this way," she said, "removes fatigue, brings strength to the body, and enhances the power of thought."
After receiving their daily share, everyone went back to their cottages to rest. Devkanya too sat in her hut and entered into deep meditation. At that time, a heat emanated from her body, such that any creature coming near her would grow weak from its intensity. Yet she herself was unaware of this.
In her meditative state, Devkanya saw that everything around her was being submerged in water — except the place where she sat. In the submerged area, there was an outcry. A woman, tormented by immense pain, cried out, "O Great One, awaken! Your creation is on the verge of destruction. Lord Rudra himself seems intent on immersing the illusion in the abyss. O Great One, stop this terrifying deluge! I am Madhavi, born from you. I exist through this creation, hence I am your daughter. Revive your creation, revive your daughter from this devastation!"
As she prayed, suddenly the foamy water stirred violently, and from within it emerged a gigantic fish with a massive tail — its thrashing creating the foam. Seated on its back were eleven figures: ten men and one woman, unique and unparalleled. As their faces became visible, Devkanya was awestruck to see that the woman was none other than herself.
Slowly, she opened her eyes. What had she seen? Why had she seen it? She couldn't understand. One cannot see the Guru-father before the destined time. None may reach where he resides without his will. So she waited for the divine call through her spiritual practice.
"Om javākusuma-saṅkāśaṃ kāśyapeyaṃ mahādyutim,
dhvāntāriṃ sarvapāpaghnaṃ praṇato'smi divākaram."
Gradually, a sweet sound began to echo around her cottage. Devkanya realized it was time for prayer. But one must be purified before attending the prayer. So, she walked toward the river for cleansing.
Surrounded by dense jungle and tall, snow-covered mountains, the source of this river — Padmanabha — is hidden from normal sight. Moss-covered trees lined the path. The forest god seemed to have a rivalry with the sun god, making sunlight scarce in this thick jungle. Even the few accessible paths were veiled in mist.
The Padmanabha river, formed from some distant melting snows, often remains frozen during colder seasons. Yet a reservoir has been created from its waters, known as Padma Pond, and it holds water throughout the year, used by forest dwellers in all seasons.
Devkanya walked toward a familiar stone slab where they often bathed. But upon arriving, she realized that everyone else had already left — proven by the absence of her companion Anupriya's customary flower, which she left daily as a signal of her presence.
Feeling somewhat disappointed, a deep sense of loneliness returned to her. Her eyes moistened again. Slowly, she stepped into the cool, clear water, and felt all her fatigue wash away. As she submerged herself, she felt light and peaceful. Guru-father once said, "The ancient sages claimed that the Supreme Being — Narottama or Purushottama — is the origin and end of the universe. Since water (nāra) is born from Nar and is its dwelling (ayana), He is called Nārāyaṇa."
She resolved to share yesterday's vision with her Guru-father and ask about its meaning. The reflections of surrounding trees danced on the water's surface. While bathing, she noticed a strange reflection — one that didn't belong to a tree. Someone was watching her from a hidden slope of the mountain. She couldn't tell if it was a man or a woman. Watching the rippling reflection, she gradually discerned it was a man — a warrior by appearance.
He did not belong to this forest, as the dwellers here wear green garments for camouflage. Who was this person? A spy? A stranger?
Feeling discomfort in her wet clothes, she walked toward the cave to change. Upon stepping out in dry clothes, she was stunned — and slightly alarmed. Who was that stranger in warrior garb? Was he heading for war? Or seeking counsel from the Guru? How did he descend so swiftly from such a treacherous height?
She hoped he hadn't seen her. Perhaps he was only searching the area after spotting her from afar. Yet, in the blink of an eye, he vanished. Her curious eyes searched everywhere, driven by an intense, youthful curiosity.
Realizing she was running late, she picked up her flower basket and headed to the garden.
Just then, a "painted insect (butterfly)" landed on her right hand. The design fascinated her. She wanted to lose herself in its beauty — but quickly remembered that many would arrive at the ashram that night. She had to ask her Guru-father about the rest of the maiden's story — and the mystery of her own birth. There was also another silent desire she hoped to share with him.
Would he accept it — her father?