Whatever form I assumed, whether of an irrational being, god or man, I continued to adore Ýr¶ RŒma even in that form. Yet one thing ever stung my conscience: my Guru’s mild and amiable disposition I could never forget. The last body I got was that of a BrŒhma˜a, which the Vedas and PurŒ˜as declare as difficult even for the gods to attain. Even in that incarnation whenever I joined the other boys for play, I would enact all the pastimes of Ýr¶ RŒma (the Lord of the Raghus) alone. As I grew up my father gave me lessons (in secular subjects). I tried to understand things, listened to the lessons and reflected on them; yet they failed to attract my mind. All worldly cravings left my soul; I was solely absorbed in the thought of Ýr¶ RŒma’s feet. Tell me, O lord of the feathered creation: is there anyone so wretched as to give up a cow of plenty and tend a she-ass? Overwhelmed with love I had no charm left for anything and my father was tried of coaching me. When both my father and mother died, I withdrew to the forest in order to worship the Protector of His servants. In the forest wherever I met any great sage I visited his hermitage and bowed my head to him. I would ask them to recount Ýr¶ RŒma’s virtues and listened with delight to what they told me. O lord of the winged creatures ! In this way I went about listening to the recital of Ýr¶ Hari’s praises. By Ýambhu’s grace my movements were unchecked everywhere. The three types of ardent seeking (viz., those for progeny, wealth and fame) left me and one solitary longing grew to inordinate proportions in my heart. “I shall deem the object of my birth accomplished only when I behold Ýr¶ RŒma’s lotus-feet,” I said to myself. Every sage I interrogated observed, “God represents the totality of created beings.” But the view which holds God as impersonal did not find favour with me and the love I bore in my heart for the embodied Brahma grew from more to more. (1—8)