Tukaram, Poem 3697

He shakes his bag of beads and wags his chin; every bead he tells, he finds fault with someone. His fruit, when it ripens, will be the chastisement of Yama; he has made his home in the furnace of hell fire. He harbours rage in his heart, like a Mang; he barks like a dog, and pretends he is reciting God’s names. Tuka says, He has bathed himself in urine, and given his forefathers filth to eat.