neither in Kaaba nor in Kailāsh.” Those who sought Him needed not to go far; for He awaited discovery everywhere, more accessible to “the washerwoman and the carpenter” than to the self-righteous holy man.[1] Therefore the whole apparatus of piety, Hindu and Moslem alike--the temple and mosque, idol and holy water, scriptures and priests--were denounced by this inconveniently clear-sighted poet as mere substitutes for reality; dead things intervening between the soul and its love—
The images are all lifeless, they cannot speak:
I know, for I have cried aloud to them.
The Purāna and the Korān are mere words:
lifting up the curtain, I have seen.[2]
This sort of thing cannot be tolerated by any organized church ; and it is not surprising that Kabīr, having
