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Mrs. Vajñadā. Daughter of Dāṃkī, she was sleeping on a bed of flowers.
The cuckoo-voiced one. Seeing his throat, who would not be eager? The nectar-like juice of that innocent one was established as the siddharasa (perfected state).
The world enamored by her multi-colored eyes became monochrome. Her arched eyebrows did not rob anyone of their cunning and crookedness. Her tresses were like a noose near the limbs of others, whose form even Bṛhaspati cannot describe.
Even the king of serpents cannot describe it. When she was sleeping at night, resting her languorous limbs, absorbing the moonbeams on the seventh level of the sacred house, the Jina named Yaśodhara came to the enchanting garden. The assembly of gods could not be contained anywhere. The uproar of the sounds of vīṇās, drums, and various hymns removed her sleep burden.
There, seeing the gods, her birth-covering momentarily withdrew. Remembering the births in heaven, the sports of the graceful one settled in her mind.