I.16. santan jat na pucho nirguniyan IT is NEEDLESS to ask of a saint the caste to which he belongs; For the priest, the warrior, the tradesman, and all the thirty-six castes, alike are seeking for God. It is but folly to ask what the caste of a saint may be; The barber has sought God, the washer-woman, and the carpenter Even Raidas was a seeker after God. The Rishi Swapacha was a tanner by caste. Hindus and Moslems alike have achieved that End, where remains no mark of distinction.
I HAVE FELT your muffled steps in my blood, Evermoving Past, have seen your hushed countenance in the heart of the garrulous day. You have come to write the unfinished stories of our fathers in unseen script on the pages of our destiny; You lead back to life the unremembered designs for the shaping of new images. Is not the restless Present itself a crowd of your own visions Flung up like a constellation from the abyss of dumb night?
