The strange words and actions of the woman in the red dress had left Nanak bewildered. He looked around anxiously, and fear took such a hold of him that he was in a most peculiar state. He could not remain by the well, and, moving quickly, he hurried away, hoping that—

He set off towards the Ganga, hoping that by walking along the bank, he might reach the barge. But even this was not possible, for the jungle was crisscrossed with many narrow paths, and following them, he lost his way and began heading in a completely different direction.

Nanak had gone barely half a kos when he became restless with thirst. He began searching for water, but in that forest, he could not find a single spring or stream to quench his thirst. At last, while wandering about, he caught sight of a hut made of leaves. Taking it for a fakir's hermitage, he made his way towards it. But upon reaching, he realized he had been mistaken. There were several trees there whose branches had bent down and intertwined, forming a shelter that, from a distance, looked like a hut.

Nevertheless, that place proved most fortunate for Nanak. For among those very trees, he saw a clear spring of water flowing, with lovely, shady trees on both sides, their branches casting a cool shadow over the stream. Overjoyed, Nanak hurried to the edge of the spring, washed his hands and face, drank deeply, and then sat down to rest.

After sitting by the spring for a while, Nanak saw something floating in the water, drifting towards him from afar. As it drew near, he saw it was a piece of cloth. He waded into the water, pulled the cloth out, and examined it closely, for it was the very cloth RamBholi had wrapped around her waist when disembarking from the barge.

Astonished, Nanak gazed at the cloth for a long time, pondering many things. He had seen RamBholi ride away on horseback before his eyes—how, then, could he believe this cloth was hers? Yet he rubbed his eyes several times and looked again at the cloth. At last, he had to accept that it was indeed RamBholi's shawl. Hoping to meet RamBholi, he set off along the bank of the spring, thinking that after riding away, she must have come to this very spot, and for some reason, the cloth had fallen into the water.

Nanak walked for about a kos along the spring, shaded trees lining both banks, until in the distance he saw the white gleam of a small house. He was delighted, thinking perhaps he might meet RamBholi there. Quickening his pace, he soon reached the house.

The house was built like a bridge across the middle of the spring. The stream was not very wide—no more than twenty or twenty-five hands across. The land on both banks came right up to the house, and in the center, to allow the water to flow, there was an archway like a canal under the bridge. Nanak, seeing this house—

He became very pleased and began to think that this must surely have been built by some whimsical lover of beauty. From here, the splendor of this spring and the surrounding forest could be seen in all its glory. He thought to himself, "I should go inside this house and see whether it is empty or if someone lives here." Nanak walked to the front of the house. Its porch was very high; after climbing fifteen steps, he reached the door. The door was open, and he entered boldly.

At each of the four corners of the house was a small chamber, and on all four sides were verandahs, with railings waist-high in front of them. In other words, each verandah was flanked on both sides by chambers, and in the center was a large room. There was no sort of decoration in this house, but it was clean.

As soon as Nanak stepped inside the door, his gaze fell upon a sadhu sitting in the central room. The sadhu was seated on a deer skin. He must have been over eighty years old. His hair was as white as cotton, long locks spread out wildly, dry and unkempt, and his beard hung down to his navel. Around his waist, a loincloth was tied with a rope of munj grass, and he wore no other garment. A sacred thread hung around his neck, and his radiant face bore the marks of age and spiritual power. When Nanak saw him, the sadhu was seated in the lotus posture, deep in meditation, his eyes closed and his hands resting on his thighs. Nanak stood before him for a long time, but the sadhu took no notice. Nanak looked up and examined the surroundings carefully, but apart from two large paintings, covered with cloth and placed against the wall behind the sadhu, he saw nothing else.

Nanak was astonished and began to wonder: "There is no sign of any belongings in this house, so how does this holy man sustain himself? And what are those two paintings, whose presence in this house seems so necessary?" Absorbed in such thoughts, he began to wander about and look around. He explored every verandah and chamber, but not even a straw was to be seen anywhere. However, there was one chamber he could not enter, for its door was closed, though there was no visible lock or chain upon it. It was not clear how it was shut. Wandering thus, Nanak came to the side verandah and, leaning over the railing, gazed at the beauty below, spending nearly an hour in this way.

After wandering about, he returned to the babaji, but found him still sitting with eyes closed. Helpless, he sat down in a corner, hoping that eventually the sadhu would open his eyes. As evening approached, from within the chamber whose door was closed and into which Nanak had not been