Note: The above is not from the Lilavati per se. It's from the Manoranjana, a commentary written by one Ramakrishna Deva. Colebrooke spotted its connection with Bhaskara's Problem 3.2.54 and decided to — god bless him — footnote it.

Lilavati is not exactly Aguilera-dirty. Problems involving randy geese, bees trapped in lotuses, girls with tremulous eyes and so on are, I'm sorry to report, relatively few in number. One of the problems [3.6.75] is downright chilling:

If a female slave, sixteen years of age, bring thirty-two (nishkas), what will one aged twenty cost? If an ox which has been worked two years sell for four nishkas, what will one, which has been worked six years cost?

But most of the problems would fit in today's calculus textbooks. They're of the 'two doomed trains rushing towards each other with speed such-and-such...' type. It's the world of conical reservoirs, slipping ladders, and rectangles surmounted by semicircles. The kind of problems Frigyes Karinthy made such fun of in his delightful short story, "The Refund":

If we represent the speed of light by X and the distance of the star Sirius from the Sun by Y, what is the circumference of a one-hundred-and-nine-sided regular polyhedron whose surface area coincides with that of the hip-pocket of a state railway employee, whose wife has been deceiving him for two years and eleven months with a regimental sergeant major of hussars. [src]

If you said: 28 apricots you are wrong! It's 27 apricots!

Lilavati is now a mood, a symbol, a place and an attitude; a woman. For me, it's hard to believe it was written almost a thousand years ago. Much has changed in the world since it was written. Angkor Wat and Khajuraho are now ruin and memory. But the time-laden ponds remain. So do the lotuses and bees, forever getting entangled in eyes, thighs and mathematics.