In a quiet valley veiled by mist and mystery, there flowed an ancient river known to the sages as Maya Nadi—the River of Illusions. It was said that this river did not simply cleanse the body, but dissolved the illusions that bound the soul. Few dared to approach it, for its waters revealed not just truths, but the self beneath all masks.
One early morning, as golden light spilled across the forest canopy, two celestial maidens descended from the heavens. Their names were Rati and Anila—spirits of joy and beauty, known across realms for their grace. Though divine, they carried within them the subtle pride of form, enchanted by the admiration they inspired wherever they went.
Drawn by tales of the river’s power, they arrived at Maya Nadi, laughing as they waded into its cold, crystalline water. Each ripple shimmered as if whispering secrets. On the opposite bank, beneath a Bodhi tree older than time, sat a man clothed in simple robes.
It was the Buddha.
His presence was quiet, not commanding but still undeniable—like the stillness before dawn. With a peaceful smile and half-closed eyes, he watched the river flow, and the women with it. Near him sat Bodhi, the round-bellied sage known for his riddles and laughter—once a prince, now a humble seeker.
Rati, bold and radiant, plunged deeper into the river. She closed her eyes and felt a strange tingling across her scalp. Opening them, she gasped—her long, ebony hair was gone, vanished like smoke. She ran her hands over her smooth head in disbelief.
Anila shrieked in surprise, rushing to her side. “Sister, your hair!”
But the Buddha did not speak. He simply watched, his face calm as a still pond.
Rati looked into the water and saw not a bald maiden, but a reflection free of vanity, free of the roles she had played in countless lifetimes. For the first time, she saw herself not as beautiful or divine—but as pure consciousness.
Anila turned toward the Buddha, confusion in her eyes. “Why has this happened?”
Bodhi the sage laughed gently and said, “That which you cling to most tightly is the very thing the river offers to free you from.”
The Buddha finally spoke, his voice low and compassionate:
“You are not your form, nor your adornments. What you have lost is not yours. What remains is your true self.”
Anila slowly nodded. Without another word, she dipped her head beneath the surface. When she rose, her hair too was gone—but her face glowed with quiet joy.
The two sisters stepped from the water, no longer divine in appearance, but divine in essence—bare, free, and radiant with truth.
The Buddha offered them a lotus blossom each.
“You have stepped beyond illusion,” he said. “Now walk the path.”
As the sisters bowed and walked into the forest, lighter than air, the Buddha closed his eyes once more. The river flowed on, as it always had—quiet, wise, and waiting for the next soul ready to see.