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A flame in a banana grove burns weakly. Virtue among fools has no power—wisdom must have space to flourish.
All beings—immovable and moving—are ultimately transient and rootless like the hollow banana stem or a mirage.
“When will I spend my days crying out to my beloved—O beautiful one, grant me your grace?” A romantic longing for union and intimacy.
“When will I abandon all work, remembering the supreme bliss beyond speech and thought, crying out to you, O Lord?” A devotee’s yearning for renunciat...
“When will I bow before Ganesha, whose face glows with vermilion, crying with devotion as if days are moments?” A devotee's intense yearning.
Sometimes even small things are useful—why neglect the humble grass while seeking big rituals? Simplicity matters.
Armor may be pierced, but not a Brahmin’s blessing—not even in a hundred years. A powerful tribute to spiritual force.
Wealth earned through struggle is sometimes lost to trivial causes—like mice in a hole. When fate opposes, even the secure becomes uncertain.
“May Lord Jagannatha, worshipped by gods, become visible on my path one day—as he delights in the smiles of Gopis by Yamuna’s forest!”
One day, Draupadi, tired in the forest, sits in Bhima’s lap. With innocent love, she embraces him, confusing him with her father-in-law.
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