[paragraph continues] Hundreds of people die at the mercy of a man. This is the play of Sakti (power). My mind is burned by earthly fire. I have no desire for wealth. I prefer death to the pleasures of life. I prefer to live without sorrow and disappointments, but I find it impossible to free my mind. If you, with your well controlled mind, will not remove my grief, then to whom shall I go? The dangers of poison are not poisonous to me, but the sensual objects are my woe. The former kills only the body, but the latter ruins many bodies of future birth. Free from objects of love or hate, the sages, like thee, with quietness of mind are ever engaged in seedless Samadhi (highest meditation). My mind is indifferent toward the material or the spiritual. Please show me the way to bliss that is above pain or pleasure, doubt or delusion. That eternal state can't be reached by the five senses. I desire the path by which the Great Righteous ones manage to escape, from the suffering's of this world. Please be kind enough to tell me--is there not a higher state of existence? Is there not a state of quietness? If there is no one who will unlock that door for me, then may I not attain that peaceful state by my own efforts alone? I am

without doubt and egoism, I do not care for food, water, nor fine clothes. I will not perform my daily duties. I do not care to read scrildure, nor do I care for pleasures or pains. Above love and hate, I shall always be silent and desireless."

Thus Ram ended his story of misery and darkness, and asked for light.

HOW THE WISE OUGHT TO LIVE:

- A Dialogue -

SON

Since soon the days of mortals end,
How ought the wise their lives to spend?
What course should I, to duty true,
My sire, from youth to age pursue?

FATHER

Begin thy course with study; store
The mind with holy Vedic lore.
That stage completed,--seek a wife,
And gain the fruit of wedded life,
A race of sons, by rites to seal,
When thou art gone, thy spirit's weal.
Then light the sacred fires, and bring
The gods a fitting offering.
When age draws nigh, the world forsake,
Thy chosen home the forest make;
And there a calm, ascetic sage,
A war against thy passions wage,
That, cleansed from every earthly stain,
Thou may'st supreme perfection gain.

SON

And art thou then, my father, wise,
When thou dost such a life advise?
What wise or thoughtful man delights
In formal studies, empty rites?
Should such pursuits and thoughts engage
A mortal more than half his age?
The world is ever vexed, distressed;
The noiseless robbers never rest.

FATHER

Tell how the world is vexed, distressed;
What noiseless robbers never rest?
What means thy dark, alarming speech?
In plainer words thy meaning teach.

SON