In plain words
One more thing: even the Paramātma's taking on a terrible form and nature is for the welfare of the world alone; just as the knife in a skilled doctor's hand becomes an instrument for treating disease and gives the gift of life, so God takes on a terrible form for the healing of the world and takes stern measures. While maharṣis and ascetics are absorbed in tapas, God sets about putting obstacles in their way. The reason for this is not guile; it is not cunning; nor is it a resolve to gain something. These tests are only to give them the highest place, the crown they long for.
You who are students know this well. At the end of the year the university authorities set what they call examinations. What is that for? Do they hold some hatred against you? Is it not only to send you on to a higher place? In the same way, the Paramātma tests the yogīs who practise tapas. When God sets a test, “Swami! We cannot pass!” they pray, weary and in despair! They raise an uproar for the tests to be stopped. If you give up the tests, there is no way to rise to a higher place. Before you give certificates to those who steer ships and planes, there must be tests. For reaching the highest level, tests are essential. If you say there should be none, you will have to stay just where you are. It means that there are no holy feelings in such people.
There is a story in history that is an ideal example of this. When Emperor Śibi, a man of supreme sacrifice, rich in tapas, was enjoying and delighting in his wealth and riches and his sovereignty with Viveka, Vairāgya and discernment, Indra made a plan to see whether his mastery of the senses and mastery of the mind were passing or firm.
The god Agni took the guise of a dove, and Indra that of an eagle. It appeared to Emperor Śibi that the eagle came chasing the dove. The dove came running and, crying “Save me!”, alighted beside the emperor. Śibi, who had taken the vow of protecting whoever came to him for refuge, granted the dove the gift of its life.
At once the eagle came up to him and argued fiercely. “That very dove is my food for this meal. If you do not satisfy my hunger, what use are all these: your tapas, your good name, your wealth and riches, your name and fame? I have come to your house as a guest; to fulfil my wish is your very Dharma,” it said.
“I have given that dove my word of protection; I have granted it its life. For your food I will give even my own body, but that dove I will not give. I will cut from my own flesh, right now, as much meat as the dove weighs, and give it to you,” said Emperor Śibi. Even as the eagle looked on, he brought a pair of scales. He set the dove in one pan; in the other he cut the flesh from his own body, piece by piece, and placed it there himself. But the wonder of it was that the pan in which the dove sat did not rise even a little! With nothing else left to do, Emperor Śibi, who upheld Satya in his word, took his seat in that pan himself. “Eat this very body, satisfy your hunger and be content,” he pleaded!