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Sikander had just returned from a triumphant victory. Thousands of people saluted him and bowed before him. As his procession passed by a Fakeer sitting beneath a tree, Sikander was filled with rage.
The Fakeer had neither stood up as a sign of respect, nor had he bowed his head before Sikander. Not being content with the humble salutations of thousands, Sikander desired one more–the salutation of the Fakeer. He lost the happiness of a thousand cheerings for the sake of one cheer that did not go up for him.
Sikander:      Fakeer! Bow before me!

Fakeer:          Why should I bow before you, Sikander! You are the slave of my slave! Tum to mere ghulam ke bhee ghulam ho!
Sikander lept down from his horse, sword in hand, and came towards the Fakeer, in a fit of rage.

Sikander:      Either prove what you say, or else die!

Fakeer:          All right, I will prove it, not out of fear, but at your request. Firstly, it is you who have shown me respect by getting off your horse and standing before me. Secondly, your sword cannot kill me.

Sikander:      Prove that I am the slave of your slave!

Fakeer:          You have just gained victory over one country – is that enough for you? Or do you desire more?
Sikander:      No, I have many more countries to conquer.

Fakeer:          Do you desire fame?

Sikander:      Yes.

Fakeer:          A long life? Good health? Youth? Happiness? A kingdom that is the most powerful in the world? Do you have a desire for all these things?

Sikander:      Yes.

Fakeer:          But I do not. All these desires are under my control. Desire is my slave. And you are the slave of Desire. Therefore, you, Sikander, are the slave of my slave!
Sikander was astonished.

Sikander:      You say my sword cannot kill you?

Fakeer:          No. It cannot. The sword is dead. By itself, it cannot move to kill me. It is in your hand, but your hand is in the hand of God! If it be the Will of God that I live, your hand cannot move to kill me!

Mere zakhm seene pe kar sake,
Hoon havaa se jab main lateeftar,
Na ye taabo taakate tegh hai,
Na ye teer hee kee majaal hai

Wounds cannot come to my heart
For I am finer than the air,
The powers of the sword cannot reach me
Nor the arrows dare!

According to Shri Nathji, the incident was a powerful one in Sikander’s life.
Sikander once said:
My father gave me a body which must go to Death, but I met an Enlightened Soul once in my life, whose words are the only solace I carry with me to the next world.
Shri Nathji’s parables and stories were so powerful and so convincing, and their impact so moving that his listeners would either burst into tears or break out into loud sounds of acclamation: “Wah! Wah! Wonderful! Wonderful!”
Shri Nathji could explain in a few simple sentences some of the greatest spiritual philosophies of the world.