The sage spoke to the king, offering a profound lesson on the nature of reality. He began with a simple analogy: “Consider an umbrella. If you examine its parts separately—the spokes, the fabric, the handle—where is the umbrella itself? It disappears when you take it apart. In the same way, this reasoning applies to you and to me as well.” He continued, “In this world, we use names—man, woman, horse, elephant, bird, tree—based on the knowledge we have and the actions that cause these forms. But truly, a person is neither god, nor man, nor animal, nor plant. These distinctions of bodily form, O King, are merely the results of actions, nothing more.” The sage pressed further: “What is called a ‘king’ in this world, or anything that seems to be kingly or of his retinue, is not ultimately real. It is only a product of thought. But that which, even after a long time, does not take on another name, and is not produced by transformation or change—let that be, O King. What concern is that to you?” He then posed a direct question: “You are called the king of all people, the son of your father, the enemy of your foe, the husband of your wife, the father of your son. But what, O King, should I truly call you? Are you your head? Is your neck yours? Your abdomen, your feet, and the rest—are these you, or merely yours?” The sage concluded this inquiry: “You are established apart from all these limbs, O King. Become skilled in this inquiry: Who am I? When the truth is determined in this way, how could I say ‘I am this’ without first producing the means of expression?” Hearing these words, which were filled with the highest truth, the king humbly bowed to the sage and spoke, “Revered one, the words you have spoken, so full of ultimate truth, have caused my mind to wander from its old tendencies. This discernment and knowledge you have revealed about all beings is the supreme principle of nature.” He reflected, “I am not the one carrying the palanquin, nor does the palanquin rest upon me. The body, by which the palanquin is borne, is distinct from me. The activity of beings arises from the impulses of action through the operation of qualities. These qualities act, as you have said—what have they to do with me?” The king confessed, “When this knowledge of ultimate truth entered my ears, my mind became unsettled, yearning for the highest reality. Earlier, O fortunate one, I had set out to question the great sage Kapila. Tell me, O sage, what is the highest good here? Meanwhile, your words have once again turned my mind toward the ultimate truth.” He continued, “The sage Kapila, O twice-born, is a portion of Lord Viṣṇu, the cause of the world’s delusion, who has descended to earth. Surely, that very Lord has appeared here for our welfare, as is spoken of by the wise. Therefore, to me, who bows before you, grant the highest good, O sage. You are like an ocean, whose waves are all knowledge.” The brāhmaṇa replied, “O King, do you ask about the highest good, or do you ask about the ultimate truth? All goods that are not the ultimate truth also exist, O King. By worshipping the gods, one desires wealth and prosperity, sons and a kingdom. That is his good, O King. Action whose essence is sacrifice is good; its fruit is attainment. The chief good lies in the fruit, whether or not it was intended.” He continued, “Those united with yoga should always meditate on the self, O King, and likewise on the Supreme. Union with Him is the highest good, the good of the Supreme Self. Although there are countless things here that seem superior, in truth, none of these are the ultimate reality. Listen as I explain further.” “If wealth is given up for the sake of righteousness, that is not the highest reality; and if it is spent, it is only for the attainment of desire. If a son were considered the highest reality, O lord of men, then he would belong to another—for the father is the highest reality for the son, and vice versa. Thus, in this world of moving and unmoving beings, there is no ultimate reality; what is called the highest reality is always the effect of causes.” “If attainment of a kingdom and such things is said to be the highest reality here, then these become the highest reality, and yet, at the same time, they do not. You may consider the sacrificial act, accomplished through the Rig, Yajur, and Sama Vedas, to be the highest reality; but hear what is truly the case even there. Whatever work is accomplished with clay as its material cause, O King, is known as an earthen object because it comes from its cause. In the same way, the rite performed with perishable substances—sticks, ghee, kusa grass—will itself be perishable. The wise accept that the imperishable alone is the highest reality; but that which is perishable, being produced from perishable substances, is certainly not so.” “You consider that action which bears fruit as the highest reality, because it is a means to liberation; but the highest reality is not a means. Meditation upon the self, O King, is called the pursuit of the highest reality, but for those who create distinctions, the highest reality is not divided. The union of the supreme self and the individual self is considered the highest reality; but anything else, being a different substance, is false, for it does not attain the nature of that substance.” “Therefore, O King, all these things are indeed excellent, without doubt; but now, in brief, listen to me about the highest reality. The one self is all-pervading, equal, pure, without qualities, beyond nature, free from birth and growth, all-pervading, and undecaying. He is composed of supreme knowledge, called by the wise by various names and categories; he is neither possessed of yoga nor joined to anything, nor will he ever be, O King. Although present in one’s own and others’ bodies, that consciousness which is one in essence is the highest reality. For those who perceive duality, it is not so.” Thus, the sage revealed the deepest truth to the king: that beyond all names, forms, and actions, there is one pure, unchanging self—the highest reality—ever present, ever free.