The Compassionate One called out to everyone: 'Come under the mountain, all of you. Let no one remain outside.' The people, terrified of the rain, emerged and saw the mountain lifted. The cowherds were stationed all around the rim. Some laughed, some cried, some trembled with fear. All of them came beneath the mountain: the people, the cows, the calves, the birds, all living creatures. All who called themselves Hari's own, of whatever kind. Says Tuka, God recognizes no caste or clan. He embraces whatever is surrendered. He protects His own with all His might. He does not let even Death look their way. The rain did not reach them; instead hail and boulders began to fall. Stones rained down upon the mountain for seven days without end. The cowherds held up the mountain for that time, believing themselves truly strong. Then God sensed their growing pride and said, 'You may let go now.' The cowherds laughed at the absurdity. 'Show us your blistered knees and elbows from carrying the load,' they said. 'You put the burden on us and stood aside, out of sight.' 'You barely touched it with a fingertip. Let us see how you hold this mountain.' They had been straining under an imaginary weight, believing the illusion to be real. They bragged in their pride, unable to see the truth. When they finally shook out their arms and legs, they found the mountain resting on a single finger. 'We labored for nothing, O God.' Then, at last, everyone understood. Says Tuka, they understood through direct experience, and their pride was laid aside.

The Compassionate One called out to everyone: come under the mountain, all of you, let no one stay outside. The people, terrified of the rain, came out and saw the mountain lifted. The cowherds were set all around the rim. Some laughed, some wept, some shook with fear. All of them came in beneath the mountain, the hill held up over their heads. Under it came the people, the cows, the calves, the birds, every living kind. All who called themselves Hari's own, of whatever sort they were. Caste and clan are no measure to him; to the wholly surrendered he is wholly given. Tuka says. He guards his servants with all his strength and will not let even Death look their way. The rain did not reach them; then hail and boulders began to fall. Stones came down and struck the mountain, raining in sheets of rock. The downpour of stones was a terror, and it went on seven days without a break. All that time the cowherds held the hill, sure they themselves were strong. God saw this pride rising in their minds and said, you may let go now. The cowherds laughed and thought it strange to hear Govinda's words. Show us, they said, your knees and elbows blistered from carrying the load. You put the weight on us and stood apart, slipping out of sight. You barely set a fingertip to it. Let us see how you hold this mountain. They had been straining under a weight that was never there, taking the false for the real. They boasted in their strength, blind to the truth, their eyes would not open. When at last they shook out their necks, arms and legs and looked, the mountain was resting on a single finger. We labored for nothing, O God, they said, and then it dawned on every one of them. Tuka says: they understood it by direct experience, and their pride was laid down.