Why do you need covert plans and sinister strategms? A golden deer, a mendicant's bowl and a plan to abduct? Do you think she is a bottle of perfume locked in a cupboard to be anointed only a limited number of times? Do you think she is a draught of nectar that can only quench a single thirst, a single time? Have you not heard? She is her father's daughter, a soul of the soil. She is her country's princess, the body-less one. She is a jasmine bloom that shall exude fragrance till she drops to her mother's lap. She is a bubbling cascade that throws up water unmindful of anybody's thirst. Come to our hermitage then. Not at the crack of the dawn, at high noon or at dusk For I shall be lost in penance and she shall be lost in my penance. Come just after the sandhya and partake of our fruit and drink. I shall then go to gather some firewood. Talk to her and know her soul. She loves strumming her vina but is still an amateur. She likes listening to stories, especially those of the magical northern lands. She doesn't like ambition, so do not talk of your battle and wealth. She doesn't like harming animals, so do not talk of your love for meat. If you must indeed abduct her, then do it with your words, your heart and your soul. The flight in your vimana will be all the more pleasant if you are not distracted by her struggling or in battling guardian birds. But bear this in mind. She is not yours, not mine. The bow was not broken to make her mine, but to gain her respect. So, come, sit, talk and gain her respect. Then carry her away if she comes. But before that O wise ten headed one teach me to sing Vasanta, for she craves that in the evenings.