The wise Brahmin turned to the king and spoke with gentle firmness, “O best of kings, let the palanquin that brings you joy be sought out. But consider—where was the umbrella first born? This question applies equally to you and to me. All these worldly titles and distinctions exist only in relation to bodies, which themselves are merely causes for action. The differences among bodily forms, O king, are the sources from which actions arise. Yet, even these distinctions—one person being thus, another being otherwise—are not ultimately true; they are born of imagination. Consider, O king: that object which arises from transformation and change—what is its true nature? Who are you, truly—the husband of your wife, the father of your son? I ask you, O king, is it your foot, or any other part of you, that is truly yours? This is not so. What, then, do you truly possess, O king? Therefore, become skilled in deep contemplation: ask yourself, ‘Who am I, truly?’ How, O ruler, can one who acts as though separate from all else truly accomplish what must be done? Ponder this well.” Hearing these profound words, the king humbly bowed to the Brahmin and replied, “O Brahmin, your words leave my thoughts wandering, as if lost. You have revealed to me the supreme principle of nature itself. Indeed, it is by some other body than my own that this palanquin is carried. You have said that these qualities act—but whose qualities are they? Are they mine? My mind is agitated as I strive for the ultimate truth. I am prepared to ask further, but there is still some doubt in my heart about the highest good. Therefore, my mind turns to you, seeking the highest truth. It seems to me that a portion of Viṣṇu himself has come to enchant the world, and you, having attained direct perception, have declared these truths. Therefore, O one filled with the waves of all knowledge, please speak further.” The Brahmin responded with compassion, “O king, all the highest goods and ultimate truths are attained by those who truly seek them. For one who desires sons and a kingdom, that is the highest good for him. For another, sacrifice, ritual, and acts that yield the fruits of heaven are considered the highest good. Yet, O king, the self alone is always to be meditated upon—by those united with yoga and by others as well. In this way, there are hundreds and thousands of various things considered the highest good. But if wealth is regarded as the highest purpose, then dharma itself is abandoned. If the so-called highest purpose is believed to exist only in the next world, O lord of men, it belongs to another and not to oneself. Thus, there is no true highest purpose in this world among either moving or unmoving beings. If the attainment of a kingdom and such things is declared to be the highest purpose, then the sacrificial act performed through the Ṛg, Yajur, and Sāman Vedas is what you consider. But just as an act made with clay as its material cause is perishable, so too are sacrifices performed with fuel, ghee, kuśa grass, and the like—all these are perishable substances. The wise, however, accept the imperishable as the highest purpose. That alone is the action which yields no fruit, and I consider it the true highest purpose. Meditation upon the self, O king, is what is called the highest purpose. The union of the highest and the self is regarded as the supreme goal. Therefore, O king, these are the best of all, without exception—there can be no doubt. He—the Supreme—is one, all-pervading, equal, pure, without qualities, and beyond nature. Only those who possess true knowledge recognize Him, transcending all names, classes, and distinctions.