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| Thus I have heard..... |
Every evening, a powerful King rode to the edge of his realm, where the manicured gardens of the palace met the wild, untamed forest. And every evening, he saw the same man: a yogi, standing naked and radiant under a sprawling banyan tree. The man possessed nothing, yet he looked more like a monarch than the King himself.
Driven by a hunger for that same inner stillness, the King finally approached him. "Great soul," the King pleaded, bowing low. "Your peace is a light I wish to follow. Please, come to my palace and be my Guru."
To the King’s surprise, the yogi agreed instantly.
The Transformation
As they began the journey back to the capital, the yogi’s demeanor shifted. When they reached the first village, the yogi stopped. "Great King," he said smoothly, "it would be a scandal for your Guru to enter the gates naked. Give me your royal silk shawl to cover myself."
The King thought this a reasonable request and handed over the priceless fabric.
At the next town, the yogi stopped again. "It is unseemly for the Master to walk while the disciple rides," he noted. "Let us swap places." Though taken aback, the King dismounted and handed over the reins of his finest stallion.
By the time they reached the city center, the yogi was shouting to the crowds, "Make way for the Raja Guru!" The King, trailing behind on foot, felt a prickle of annoyance. Is this a holy man, he wondered, or just a clever charlatan?
The Golden Cage
For two years, the yogi lived in the palace. He slept on feathers, ate from gold plates, and wore the finest jewels. Yet, he was a brilliant advisor. His wisdom helped the King settle wars and feed the poor. He was a perfect Guru, save for one thing: his apparent love for luxury.
One afternoon, the King’s skepticism finally boiled over. "Master," he said hesitantly, "You live in a suite larger than mine. You eat more than I do. Tell me—what is the actual difference now between a yogi like you and a King like me?"
The yogi smiled. "I will show you this evening during our walk."
The Border of the Heart
They traveled to the very spot where they had first met—the border where the forest began. The yogi dismounted the horse and turned to the King.
Without a word, he untied the silk shawl and let it fall to the dirt. He stripped away the jewels and the fine tunics until he stood as he had two years prior: naked, beneath the banyan tree.
"Take your horse," the yogi said calmly. "Take your clothes and your gold. This doubt has lived in your heart since the day I first asked for your shawl. You believe that because I used these things, I was bound by them."
The King stood stunned, holding the discarded silks.
"Go back to your palace now," the yogi continued. "You cannot stay here with me, for your heart is tied to the stone walls and the heavy crown. I stayed in your palace and enjoyed your wine, yet I can walk into this forest this second and never look back. I was happy under this tree, I was happy in your halls, and I am happy here again. That is the difference: You possess your kingdom, but your kingdom also possesses you. I possess nothing, so I am free to have everything."
The King, realizing his folly, wept and begged the yogi to return.
"No," the Master replied gently. "My answer is complete. I shall remain here. If you ever find your crown too heavy, you know where to find me. I will be under the tree, exactly where I have always been."
