In plain words
I came with the foolish idea that all in it would be scholars. But here there is not even one scholar; all are leather-workers; seeing them, I laughed,’ he said. Leather-workers means those who stitch sandals. ‘Why do you speak such big words? Are all these scholars stitchers of sandals!’ asked the king. ‘Only one who stitches sandals knows about skin. These men are looking at my skin. They do not see my heart. They do not see my purity. I laughed to think you had invited such leather-workers,’ he said. Each one's vision is of its own kind. ‘Muṇḍe muṇḍe matir bhinnaḥ.’ In the world, life goes on with such distorted feelings. Everyone must recognise the principle of the heart. They think themselves great scholars. They think themselves great poets.
God loves the feeling, not the outward show
God does not look in the least at this scholarship, this poetry. God loves the feeling only, not the outward show. If someone asks, ‘Sir! How many people have you fed?’, then: ‘I have fed five thousand people. I have given saris to two thousand,’ so they speak of themselves. ‘Chī! Chī! Feeding five thousand, giving saris to two thousand: tell all this to the income tax officer. But you need not tell it to Me,’ says God. ‘What you must show Me is only the purity of your heart!’ He says. So God is the One who looks at purity of heart, not the one who looks at this and that. This is the teaching Aṣṭāvakra gave so well to these scholars and to the people. Tell them to look at my scholarship. Who is a scholar? ‘Paṇḍitā samadarśinaḥ.’ Where is equal vision? Wrapped in big shawls and wearing bracelets, they come and sit for the photograph. This is not scholarship. You must open your heart, demonstrate the truth of the world and proclaim the eternity of Divinity. That is true scholarship. Such scholarship we must make known today, make it blossom, and spread it in teaching and preaching.