Kanada. Above love, too?
Shanta. Yea, hate and love being opposite, are Maya, illusion!
Kanada. Yet we must love the world.
Shanta. Yea, that we do to help the world.
Kanada. The Master is tender to the villagers even if they lead the worldly life.
Shanta. We be monks. We have broken all the ties of the world, even those of family, so that we can bestow our thoughts, care and love upon all the children of God. Our love is impartial. [The thunder growls in the distance.]
Kanada. Yea, that is the truth. Yet I think the Master loves thee more than any other.
Shanta. Nay, brother. He loves no one more than another. I have been with him ten years; that makes him depend on me. But if the truth were known,—he loves none. For he loves all. Indra, be my witness: the Master loveth no one more than another.
Kanada. Ah, noble-souled Master! Yet I feel happy to think that he loveth thee more than any.
Shanta. He loves each living creature. He is not as the worldly ones who love by comparison—this one more, the other less. Last night, as the rain wailed without like a heart-broken woman, how his voice rose in song of light and love! He is one of God's prophets, and a true singer of His praise.