Wherever the Vaishnavas gather, He rushes to be there. He is innocent, O Mother, simple in His virtues; He loves it when they take His name. He who cannot be reached by penance, charity, or vows, comes simply when the tongue says Hari, Rama, Krishna, Govinda. He in whose belly the fourteen worlds reside dwells in the throats of His devotees, exchanging love for love. He who has no form or shape takes countless incarnations and gives Himself a thousand names. Says Tuka, He is thus indebted to His devotees; though He cannot be held in meditation, He dances at the kirtan.