Clad in freshly washed ochre robes, his body smeared with sacred ash, the wandering renunciant moved quietly from place to place. At every step, he devoted himself to the spiritual discipline revealed in Vedānta, never wavering from its path. Each day, he studied the Vedas, for in such constant study lay the promise of reaching the highest state. His vows were forgiveness, compassion, and contentment—qualities he held most dear. He bathed daily, accepting only alms-food to sustain himself. Self-study was his daily practice, and at the two twilights he recited the Sāvitrī, honoring the sacred times of dawn and dusk. He was careful in his life: he never accepted food from just one person, nor did he give in to desire, anger, or possessiveness. With a water-pot in hand, learned and bearing the triple staff, he moved through the world, seeking the supreme state. Living on alms was prescribed for him, though he could also subsist on fruits and roots. Yet, he knew that even attachment to alms could lead to attachment to sense-objects, so he remained vigilant. Before eating, he washed his bowl; after eating, he washed it again with water. He took only what was needed for his journey, never greedy for more. When his bowl was filled, he took that as his measure. Having spoken the word “alms” once, he ate in silence, self-controlled and pure. Before eating, he offered the food to the sun, then ate facing east or north. After sipping water, he meditated on Brahma, the Supreme Lord. Manu, the lord of creatures, had spoken of four vessels suitable for ascetics. At the junctions of day—especially before fire—he always contemplated the Lord, who is the Self of all beings, standing beyond darkness. This Lord transcends both matter and spirit, is subtle like space, radiant like fire, and ever-auspicious. He meditated on the beginningless, nondual One, the abode of bliss and all noble qualities. He contemplated the great Lord, whose form is white, dark, and red, and who encompasses the entire universe. In the sky, he visualized the god Īśāna, dwelling in the midst of space. By meditating on the ancient person, Śambhu, he sought freedom from all bondage. He contemplated the supreme ether, the sole cause of all beings, and the subtle bliss of Brahman, which only the seekers of liberation can behold. Sitting with self-control, he fixed his mind on the infinite, true Lord. Whoever followed the command of the great Lord attained yogic lordship. He practiced knowledge of Brahman, by which one is freed from all bondage, and again, he meditated on the supreme bliss, the undecaying knowledge. Thus, he realized that the Lord is the god who stands beyond even the highest, the one whose part is supreme and who is truly the great Lord. If any transgression occurred, expiation was prescribed for each, to be performed in due order. A pure one should undertake the Sāṃtapana penance, accompanied by breath control. Afterward, he would return to the ashram, diligently practicing as a mendicant, never falling into negligence. Yet, he was warned not to undertake such conduct lightly, for attachment, even to discipline, is truly dreadful. If a mendicant erred, he must confess his falsehood and perform the prescribed act, for to do otherwise was another kind of violence, which destroys self-knowledge. He understood that to take another’s wealth was to take his very life. And if, in remorse, he wished to atone, he observed the Cāndrāyaṇa vow, seeking purification and return to the path. Thus, the life of the renunciant was one of discipline, self-restraint, and constant remembrance of the Supreme.