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Just as saints attain liberation by honoring elders, fools insult the noble and end up (misguidedly) satisfied.
As ascetics walked by, adorned in monastic garb, the palaces echoed with sounds like drums—almost mocking with laughter.
Even one engaged in noble work, if cursed, cannot succeed—like Renuka who failed to follow her husband due to fate.
A poor man is viewed like a criminal, though he has done no wrong. Who dares praise poverty in this world?
As kings prepared for coronation, the yellow dust from sandalwood appeared like Kama—the god of love—rising to conquer the world.
A king fresh from coronation must first choose wise allies—only then does true power get established.
Even small tasks are hard alone—how then can great empires be ruled without support?
This poor royal glory, always eager to proceed into bloody battlefields, walks amidst blood-soaked paths of war. Within the hearts of kings, she sows ...
"O beauty, doubt not a woman’s stride toward her love." Rivers themselves made their way to Shiva’s matted hair—thus even nature itself seeks union.
The slender maiden's passion for a tryst is not heard of in any other world. Even a serpent won’t strike her feet, mistaking the tight anklet's sound ...
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