Kabir

Once upon a time, the father of Kamal ventured into the bazaar at night. Filled with love, he was engaged in worshipping Shri Ram. Holding a vina (lute) in his hand, he melodiously sang praises to God. With a heart brimming with love, he envisioned the form of Shri Ram and surrendered himself to the contemplation of the divine. In this state, he let go of desires, attachments, pride, and misguided wishes. He transcended ego and the duality of 'I' and 'thou,' immersing himself in the devotion of Shri Ram. Meanwhile, in the bazaar, there was a grocer's wife diligently grinding.

When the devotee Kabir witnessed her grinding, his heart was overwhelmed with emotion. He stood there and wept openly. He thought 

"Chalti chakki dekh kar, diya kabira roye

Dui paatan ke beech mein, sabut bacha na koye."

Translation:

"Seeing the grinding mill, Kabir began to weep,

Within the two stones, nothing remains intact."

Onlookers in the bazaar, witnessing this spectacle, laughed and wondered why he shed tears. Some approached Kabir and asked, "Why are you crying? Who has caused you distress?" Many people posed similar questions, but Kabir remained silent, recognizing that these individuals couldn't alleviate his sorrow. Sharing one's grief with someone already burdened with their own sorrow only amplifies the pain. Just as a frog seeking friendship with a serpent will find no joy, Kabir realized that seeking solace from these materialistic individuals would be in vain. A wise scholar wouldn't discuss good thoughts and morals with a drunkard, just as a thoughtful person wouldn't take medicine from a sick individual. The chatak bird wouldn't drink from the river, no matter how thirsty it may be. The chakor bird finds satisfaction only when the moon appears. Similarly, an orator wouldn't speak passionately to wicked and ignorant listeners, and a royal swan wouldn't mistake quicksilver for pearls. Likewise, a wise Brahman wouldn't bless a Mang from afar, nor would a wise man engage in a private conversation with a reviler. Thus, when the money-minded people inquired about Kabir's sorrow, he remained silent, continuing to weep sorrowfully.

Amidst this, a saint named Nipat Niranjan arrived at the scene. He approached Kabir and asked, "Why do you express such grief?" Startled, Kabir opened his eyes and beheld a vast ocean of knowledge before him. Gathering courage, he decided to answer the saint. He thought, "If I share the truth with him, he may alleviate a portion of my agony." With this in mind, the devotee Kabir spoke thus: "A sick person finds solace in confiding his pain to a skilled physician. Similarly, a daughter-in-law openly shares her sorrows with her mother. A faithful disciple, when plagued by doubts, seeks guidance from his guru. Therefore, O benevolent guru, I will reveal the reason for my tears to you. My heart is consumed by remorse. You, kind sir, have lovingly inquired, so listen as I disclose the cause of my weeping. As I observed the turning mill, I witnessed grains of wheat transforming into flour. This parallels my own situation. I feel caught between the millstones of this earthly existence. Filled with fear, I manifest this intense grief. Who but you can alleviate the sorrows of this mortal realm?"

Upon hearing this, Nipat replied, "Why do you mourn needlessly? Just as you witnessed the mill's turning and felt remorse, so it is when you abandon the central support and wander aimlessly that you become like flour in the mill of death. Just as grain adhering to the central prop within the mill remains untouched, those devoted to the worship of Shri Ram are liberated from the cycle of death. Your righteousness and detachment from worldly matters have granted you this elevated status. You are a mountain of peace and forgiveness, perceiving fearsome things as mere illusions. Why then do you fear them in vain?" Kabir, upon hearing these words, was awakened to the truth, and both he and Nipat embraced each other with profound love. These noble Vaishnavas exchanged reverential greetings and salutations before parting ways. Kabir hastened back to his hermitage, where he immersed himself in various forms of verse, continuously singing the praises of Hari. He fervently performed kirtans, filled with joy and love.