Kabir

Kabir, deep in contemplation one day, pondered within his mind, "If one traverses this earthly existence without a guru, he should be considered lifeless. It is futile to have a household devoid of a spouse, a home without children, or ornaments bereft of the saffron mark adorning a married woman's forehead. Just as a tree that grows but bears no fruit, or a king born without valor, or a meal cooked without salt, rendering it tasteless, or a youthful body devoid of life, or a banker without money, or an officer lacking authority—what worth do these possess? The rainy season without clouds, a vast lake without water, a festival celebrated in a miserable village devoid of sacredness, a corn-cob without kernels—what value do they hold? A home appears empty without a master, and a praise service without love is akin to the singing of obscene songs. Just as friendship devoid of respect, or knowledge bereft of compassion, why should one assume the state of a renunciant without repentance? Enjoyment requires money, religious observance necessitates discipline, and those without peace should not be called saints. If a great individual lacks peace of heart, why do people gratuitously bestow upon him the title of greatness? Just as the chatak bird lacks beauty until the moon rises, so has this human body experienced countless futile rebirths if it has not had a virtuous guru. Thus, with utmost reverence and as a supplicant, I must seek Swami Ramananda, the renunciant."

Having made this firm decision in his mind, Kabir persisted with unwavering determination. After witnessing numerous kings firsthand and pondering deeply, Sita chose Shri Ram as her beloved upon beholding his form. Similarly, when King Bhimaka's daughter, Rukmini, learned of the beauty of Shri Krishna, she sought him as her husband. In the same vein, Kabir ardently longed for the dust of Ramananda's feet. Seizing an opportunity when he found himself alone one day, Kabir promptly rose and journeyed to Ramananda's hermitage, where he affectionately embraced his feet. Initially standing at a distance, Kabir beseeched Ramananda, saying, "May your magnanimity show me compassion." Upon hearing Kabir's voice, Ramananda covered his ears, retreated to a cave, and sat alone on his mat. Outside, Kabir, with his gentle and melodious voice, pleaded, "I, a lowly and helpless soul, stand at your threshold. Grant me your assurance and fulfill my desire." Ramananda responded, "You were born into a Muslim family, and thus, I have no authority to offer you guidance. All wise individuals understand that seeds should be sown in fertile soil, and when bestowing a gift, one must seek a worthy recipient. Just as in a marriage, one must select the appropriate bride and groom." Kabir replied, "I am resolved to come to your feet. I have spared no effort—body, speech, or mind—to do so. The moon loves the chakor bird, and though that love may not be exclusive, God, in His pleasure, showers nectar upon it for its devotion. Even if the sun fails to express its profound love for the lotus by rising, the lotus will not open in attachment to something else. When sculpting an earthen image of Dron, the reverence of the Koli (Ekalavya) bore fruit. Similarly, I have wholeheartedly embraced the Swami's feet with my body, speech, and mind." Speaking thus, Kabir once again lovingly prostrated himself before Swami Ramananda and hastened back home, brimming with intense love.

One day, while sitting alone, Kabir contemplated, "I must hear the sound of Ram's name from my guru's lips. How can I ensure that the dust of his feet adheres to me?" He then dug a trench in the path and lay down in it. Just as the lotus in the lake Manas closes its petals at night, eagerly awaiting the rising sun, saying to itself, "When will the sun arise and fill my heart with joy?" Or like the chatak bird, parched with thirst, yearning for a cloud, Kabir lay in the trench, eagerly anticipating the arrival of his guru. Just as on a splendid full moon night, the chatak bird longs for the sight of the moon, or a famished child eagerly awaits its mother's arrival, or during a severe drought, people yearn for the clouds, Kabir, driven by his love, awaited Ramananda's presence. It so happened that there were only four ghatis left until dawn, and Swami Ramananda was en route to bathe in the River Ganges. As he hurried along, his foot unintentionally brushed against Kabir, and he exclaimed, "Ram, Ram! Whose foot have I touched?" Upon hearing these words, Kabir stood up and proclaimed, "Swami, you have bestowed a great favor upon me today. Your foot accidentally touched my forehead, and I heard the mantra 'Ram, Ram.' In all the three worlds, I consider myself the most fortunate. All the virtuous deeds I may have accumulated over countless rebirths have now come to fruition. Today, birth and death have ceased for me through the touch of my guru's feet. Just as fate can transform grains of sand into resplendent diamonds, or render the salty water of a well as sweet as nectar." Overwhelmed by love, Kabir danced joyfully before Swami Ramananda, his heart brimming with profound bliss.