He uttered yet another string of smooth but scheming and guileful words: “My name now is Bhikhari, for I am a homeless beggar.”

The king replied, “Those who are repositories of wisdom and free from pride like yourself always conceal their own personality; they find their highest good in the adoption of a wretched outer garb.

That is why saints as well as the Vedas proclaim that the supremely indigent are dear to Hari. Penniless and homeless beggars like yourself raise doubts in the minds of Brahma and Shiva.

But whatever you may be, I reverence your feet and beg of you to grant me your grace.” When the hermit marked the king’s simple affection and perfect trust in him,-

-he won him over in every way and spoke with a still greater show of affection, “Listen, O king, while I relate the truth of the matter. I have for a long time dwelt here.

No one has come to me so far, nor do I make myself known to any; for worldly honour is like a wild fire that burns up the forest of penance (i.e., neutralizes it).”

Not merely fools, says Tulasidasa, but even clever men are deceived by a fair appearance. Look at the beautiful peacock; though its notes are sweet like nectar, yet it feeds on snakes.