He wears the tilak, the cap, the garland, all the paraphernalia of God, but carries it all as a filthy pretense just to fill his belly. He tucks tulsi behind his ear and darbha grass in his topknot, and pinches his nose in a show of breath-control. At the time of kirtan, he weeps and falls and rolls on the ground, though tears pour from his eyes without any real love behind them. Says Tuka, such deceivers are frauds of illusion. Govinda is nowhere near them.