Rodevra Republic

Here is a story at the end of which you may ask yourself: Who is the real saint?

There was once a saintly man who crossed a river every day, as his ashram was on the other side. A poor boatman ferried him across daily. Out of respect for the holy man, the boatman never charged him anything. In any case, he thought, where would a saint have money?

The boatman was simple and innocent. He had no knowledge of shastras or scriptures. Yet during their daily journeys across the river, the saint would often speak on spiritual matters. He spoke about God and about how one should relate to Him in everyday life. The boatman listened with deep attention and complete faith.

One day the saint invited the boatman to visit his ashram.

When they arrived, the saint said to him, “At one time I was a very successful merchant and had earned enormous wealth. But an unfortunate incident took away my wife and children. With no family left, I wondered what use all this wealth was to me. I decided to renounce everything and take sannyas. However, the money still remains untouched. When I find someone worthy, I intend to give it away.”

After pausing for a moment, he continued, “You are poor and I see that you struggle. I would like you to take this wealth. You will become rich and live comfortably with your family.”

The boatman folded his hands and replied, “No Maharaj, I cannot accept this money. If I take such wealth without earning it, what would be the value of all the spiritual teachings you have shared with me?”

“If I bring this money home, my conduct will decline. My family will become lazy and stop working. Instead of living honestly, we will begin depending on this free wealth.”

He continued quietly, “Maharaj, you have spoken to me about God. You have explained the Dnyaneshwari. Today when I look at the waves of the river, I see God in them. And if I see God in the waves, surely He sees me too. What more do I need?”

“You have already given me the greatest wealth — the wealth of knowledge. What use is money that lasts only for a short time and eventually brings sorrow? I am happy with my simple life, remembering God and taking His name. Please forgive me, but I cannot accept this money.”

The story ends here. The question remains:

Who among the two is the real saint?

Sometimes the deepest wisdom lives in the simplest hearts

On the other hand, there is the boatman. He was uneducated and had no formal knowledge of scriptures. Whatever little he knew came from listening to others. He had neither the time nor the means to pursue spiritual study, as his life was occupied with the daily struggle for survival.

Yet when enormous wealth was offered to him, he rejected it without hesitation.

The boatman may not have studied spiritual texts, but through his innocence and simplicity he had preserved his natural spiritual clarity. His conscience guided him firmly. The teachings he heard from the saint had perhaps only helped him articulate what he already knew within.

In yogic terms, he seemed to have reached the stage of Pratyahara, the fifth step of Ashtanga Yoga — the withdrawal of the senses from worldly temptations. By easily refusing wealth, he had turned away from one of the strongest distractions of the senses.

He was also prepared for the next stage, Dharana, the steady focusing of the mind. His ability to see God in the waves of the river reflected the spirit of Advaita — the perception of the Divine in everything.

People who live with such simplicity and purity are indeed dear to God. For them, scriptural knowledge is secondary. Their hearts remain open enough to receive wisdom directly through life itself.

Now let us look again at the saint.

When faced with grief, instead of confronting the suffering, he turned to renunciation. True sannyas is not meant to be an escape from life’s difficulties. Moreover, even after renouncing the world, his wealth remained on his mind. He continued to think in terms of giving it away.

If he had truly renounced everything, he might have realised that the wealth never truly belonged to him in the first place.

More importantly, he should have understood the dangers of unearned wealth, especially for a poor and simple man trying to live honestly. Yet he still offered it.

All this suggests that his renunciation may have been more outward than inward.

The boatman, on the other hand, quietly demonstrated detachment, humility, and faith — not through words, but through his choice.

In the end, one may conclude that the boatman was the real saint. In fact, one could even say he had the qualities of a true yogi, a man whose simplicity had brought him close to spiritual perfection.