Excerpt from "With Mystics And Magicians In Tibet" by A. David-Neel

In the lha khang (the room containing the holy images) we found the naljorpa seated upon a cushion in front of a low table, finishing his meal. Cushions were brought and we were offered tea.

It was difficult to begin a conversation with the ascetic, as his mouth appeared to be full of rice; he had only answered our polite greetings by a kind of grunt.

I was trying to find a phrase to break the ice, when the strange fellow began to laugh and muttered a few words. Dawasandup seemed embarrassed.

"What does he say?" I asked.

"Excuse me" answered the interpreter, "these naljorpas sometimes speak roughly. I do not know if I should translate."

"Please do," I replied. "I am here to take notes; especially of anything at all curious and original."

"Well, then-excuse me-he said, 'What is this idiot here for'?"

Such rudeness did not greatly astonish me as, in India also, certain yogins make a habit of insulting anyone who approaches them.

"Tell him I have come to ask why he mocked at the crowd seeking the benediction of the Dalai Lama."

"Puffed up with a sense of their own importance and the importance of what they are doing. Insects fluttering in the dung," muttered the naljorpa between his teeth.

This was vague, but the kind of language one expects from such men.

"And you," I replied, "are you free from all defilement?"

He laughed noisily.

"He who tries to get out only sinks in deeper. I roll in it like a pig. I digest it and turn it into golden dust, into a brook of pure water. To fashion stars out of dog dung, that is the Great Work!"