GRANDFATHER. Who could be a higher authority than yourself!
VIRUPAKSHA. But I could give you proofs . . .
FIRST CITIZEN. The impudence of this fellow knows no bounds! Not content with spreading a ghastly rumour with an unabashed face, he offers to measure his lies with insolence!
SECOND CITIZEN. Why not make him measure his length on the ground?
GRANDFATHER. Why so much heat, my friends? The poor fellow is going to have his own festive day by singing the ugliness of his King. Go along, Virupaksha, you will find plenty of people ready to believe you: may you be happy in their company.[_Exeunt._]
BHAVADATTA. It strikes me, Kaundilya, that these people haven’t got a King at all. They have somehow managed to keep the rumour afloat.
KAUNDILYA. You are right, I think. We all know that the supreme thing that strikes one’s eye in any country is the King, who of course loses no opportunity of exhibiting himself.
JANARDAN. But look at the nice order and regularity prevailing all over the place—how do you explain it without a King?
BHAVADATTA. So this is the wisdom you have arrived at by living so long under a ruler! Where would be the necessity of having a King if order and harmony existed already?
JANARDAN. All these people have assembled to rejoice at this festival. Do you think they could come together like this in a country of anarchy?
Rhavadatta. My dear Janardan, you are evading the real issue, as usual. There can be no question about the order and regularity, and the festive rejoicing too is plain enough: there is no difficulty so far. But where is the King? Have you seen him? Just tell us that.
JANARDAN. What I want to say is this: you know from your experience that there can be chaos and anarchy even if a King be present: but what do we see here?
KAUNDILYA. You are always coming back to your quibbling. Why can you not give a straight answer to Bhavadatta’s question—Have you, or have you not, seen the King? Yes or no? [_Exeunt._]
_My beloved is ever in my heart That is why I see him everywhere, He is in the pupils of my eyes That is why I see him everywhere. I went far away to hear his own words, But, ah, it was vain! When I came back I heard them In my own songs. Who are you who seek him like a beggar from door to door! Come to my heart and see his face in the tears of my eyes! _