At the command of the attendant, the venerable Brahmin—revered as the very vessel of all knowledge—took up the task of carrying the palanquin. As he walked, his steps were slow and deliberate, his gaze barely lingering on the path ahead. The king, riding within the palanquin, soon noticed the irregular motion, and, observing it again, could not help but laugh at the Brahmin’s awkward pace. The other palanquin-bearers explained, “He is moving, but not swiftly.” They questioned him, “Why do you not bear the effort? You are neither stout nor do you appear strong.” The Brahmin replied serenely, “I am not weary, nor do I feel any strain; there is no other carrier, O king.” He continued, “Fatigue and burden in carrying arise only for those who are embodied. To call one strong or weak is merely a later distinction, and even that is not truly so. But listen closely to my words, O king. The thighs and shanks, together with the abdomen, support the body; the palanquin itself rests upon the shoulders. What part, then, do I—the self—play as its bearer?” “If it is said that both you and I are present here, then we must understand this differently. All beings, swept up in the current of qualities, move in this way. Bound by ignorance and the actions they have accumulated, countless beings are thus ensnared. Increase and decrease do not occur in the same manner for all.” He gazed at the king and said gently, “Still, your words are childish; by what reasoning do you speak as you do? When the palanquin rests on your shoulder, then the burden is truly yours. Whether it is made from a mountain, tree, house, or even if it arises from the earth itself—tell me, O king, what great burden among these have I not borne? By your command, the entirety of this has been increased for me.” Hearing these profound words, the king quickly descended from the palanquin and, with humility, grasped the Brahmin’s feet. “Tell me, who are you, standing here in the guise of a servant? Reveal all this to me, O wise one, for I am eager to learn.” The Brahmin replied, “The reason for coming and acting everywhere is utility. A being desires to obtain a body and so forth, in order to experience the results of virtue and vice. Since virtue and vice arise thus, one must ask: what is their cause? The transmigration from one body to another is for the sake of enjoyment. This cannot be fully spoken or heard, yet still, the desire to know arises.” He continued, “The phrase ‘I am’ brings no fault when applied to oneself, O twice-born king. But knowledge of the self in what is not the self, or the use of words not in accord with scripture, is not proper. By this, I am the cause of all speech. Yet to say ‘I am speech’ or ‘I am the speaker’ is not appropriate. So, O king, where do I assign this designation ‘I am’? This body is not ‘I’, nor are others; yet still, people wish to speak in this way.” “Then, who are you and who am I? Such speech is ultimately fruitless. And this world of yours, O king, is not real—so it is taught. Where is the true designation of ‘tree’ or ‘wood’ for this world, O king? And in the wood, no one calls you the one who has entered the palanquin.” Thus, the Brahmin gently guided the king from the illusion of worldly distinctions to the deeper understanding of the self, revealing the subtle truth that underlies all appearances.