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This creation of Brahma is so wondrously adorned — would she not gain whatever she desired, if even the moon cast a glance?
She shuns all adornments, silence embraced too deeply, having discarded modesty — like a raw manuscript, unrefined.
Familiarity breeds contempt, even for the great. Though near the Ganga in Prayag, people may still bathe in wells.
Too much familiarity leads to disregard. Tribal women in sandalwood forests use the sacred trees as firewood.
The phrase “familiarity breeds contempt” seems untrue — for in this infinite world, deep familiarity may not always lead to disrespect.
One who has exhausted time in discipline and burnt the senses cannot be easily shaken by cunning politics like ordinary men.
The lamp, though small, cannot bear too much darkness and sputters under the burden of soot — overwhelmed despite effort.
Her gaze, worshipped like a star, pierces traditions like a deep-rooted doctrine — it deludes even the wise.
The wicked may speak with refined, soft words, yet their heart carries deadly poison like halahala hidden in sweetness.
Even if she has borne ten sons, a wife who is quarrelsome, disloyal, and abusive should be renounced.
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