Excited, Dhruva waded to the rock, sat cross-legged, and placed the butter on his open right palm. The morning sun was gentle. The river murmured. He watched the butter intently, waiting for a burst of cosmic light.
One evening, Dhruva knelt before the sage and cried, “Master, I have practiced discipline. I have renounced everything. Why is my mind still a monkey? When will I taste the ‘Butter of Kaivalya’ you speak of?”
Then a crow cawed nearby. Dhruva flinched. A single ant crawled onto his hand. He tried to ignore it. But the ant walked straight toward the butter.
