II. 111. Narad, pyar so antar nahi OH NARAD! I know that my Lover cannot be far: When my Lover wakes, I wake: when He sleeps, I sleep. He is destroyed at the root who gives pain to my Beloved. Where they sing His praise, there I live; When He moves, I walk before Him: my heart yearns for my Beloved. The infinite pilgrimage lies at His feet, a million devotees are seated there. Kabir says: 'The Lover Himself reveals the glory of true love.'
RAIDAS, THE sweeper, sat still, lost in the solitude of his soul, and some songs born of his silent vision found their way to the Rani's heart,the Rani Jhali of Chitore. Tears flowed from her eyes, her thoughts wandered away from her daily dudes, till she met Raidas who guided her to God's presence. The old Brahmin priest of the King's house rebuked her for her desecration of sacred law by offering homage as a disciple to an outcaste. 'Brahmin,' the Rani answered, 'while you were busy tying your purse- strings of custom ever tighter, love's gold slipped unnoticed to the earth, and my Master in his divine humility has picked it up from the dust. 'Revel in your pride of the unmeaning knots without number, harden your miserly heart, but I, a beggar woman, am glad to receive love's wealth, the gift of the lowly dust, from my Master, the sweeper.'