“Sire,” announced the servant to the King, “the saint Narottam has never to enter your royal temple.  
“He is singing God’s praise under the trees by the open road. The temple is empty of worshippers.
 
“They flock round him like bees round the white lotus, leaving the golden jar of honey unheeded.”
 
The King, at heart, went to the spot where Narottam sat on the grass.
 
He asked him, “Father, why leave my temple of the golden and sit on the dust outside to preach God’s love?”
 
“Because God is not there in your temple,” said Narottam.
 
The King frowned and said, “Do you know, twenty millions of gold went to the making of that

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