The body of one without faith is impure from birth; he carries the taint of difference and defilement. How can his vine ever reach the canopy? Whatever he had stored up has come before him unchanged. The mother's wish is that the child be handsome, but the stone written on the forehead stands firm. Says Tuka, such a one is like an unripe grain that, even after cooking, will never mingle with the rest of the food.