Now, let us take you to another land and guide you through a different, enchanting place. Along with this, we wish to show you marvelous feats and wondrous things, so as to properly continue the thread of our tale. Yet, at this point, we feel compelled to write something important, the knowledge of which will bring you greater enjoyment as the story unfolds.

Upon reading many of the astonishing things in this place, do not assume that this is a tilism, and that such things occur only within magical realms. Rather, consider them true and possible, and ponder them well, for this is only the first part. In these four parts of the Santati, we shall not even mention the name of tilism—let us see what comes later.

Imagine that you have arrived in a beautiful, scenic place and are taking a stroll. This land, which is about a thousand yards wide and just as long, is surrounded on all sides by four lovely hills. The lushness of the greenery and the blooming flowers in the center is a sight to behold. In this natural garden, wildflower trees are seen in abundance, among which countless rose bushes are intermingled, and not a single one is without beautiful buds and blossoms. In the middle, three large waterfalls flow gracefully. It is the rainy season; water cascading down the hills from all sides is surging into these waterfalls. On the eastern side, at the base of the hill, these three waterfalls merge into one, and the water—greater than usual—falls into a pit and disappears to who knows where. Here...

The air here is so pure and invigorating that even a person suffering from illness for years would become healthy within two days, and one could never tire of wandering these grounds.

In the very center stands a grand and splendid building. Yet, despite its immaculate cleanliness and every modern comfort, it still appears to belong to a bygone era. In front of this building is a small, beautiful stepwell, around which the land seems even more enchanting, with flowers and plants thoughtfully arranged in their proper places.

This building is neither desolate nor forlorn. It is home to fifteen or twenty young, beautiful women. See, in this pleasant evening hour, they have all come out of the house, strolling about the grounds, savoring the joys of life. All are cheerful, their gait full of youthful grace, plucking flowers and playfully tossing them to one another.

Our young hero, Kunwar Indrajit Singh, too, is strolling hand in hand with a lovely maiden on the eastern side of the stepwell. Amidst laughter and playful banter, they have forgotten all cares of the world.

Now, tired from their walk, the two sit down upon a beautiful marble slab by the edge of the stepwell, and their conversation begins—

Indrajit Singh: "Madhavi, I cannot rid myself of this doubt. Are you truly the same maiden I saw that day, swinging in the jungle by the banks