I love to gaze and gaze and still gaze at the picture of Lord Shiva, clothed in the mendicant’s garb. His body smeared with ashes, His head crowned with coils of matted hair. In one of His hands is a begging bowl and in the other a tall staff with the trident. The King of all the worlds moves as a beggar, from door to door, asking for alms.

Such is the humility of the Eternal One, the Ancient of the Ancients. He stands at the door of your heart, at the door of my heart, asking for the alms of love. He waits there outside in sun and rain, asking us........

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