Tukaram, Poem 114

I found the deer-skin under his arm a nuisance; it made a crackling noise, so he threw it away. Listen, O listen to my complaint; the shameless man has no shame. There is a cry from everyone, “Rama, Rama”; no one practises his religious duties. Men fall at the feet of the saints, and yet the saints conspire to oppress them. Tuka says, They have both brought shame on themselves; they have satisfied themselves by wickedness; in bringing discredit on their own garb they have ruined themselves.