The next day we arrived in Mandsaur. Mandsaur is a large and ancient town in the region of Malwa, located on the banks of the Shivna River. It is surrounded by a strong wall. At its center is an old, dilapidated fort. The shops here are lively. There are Muslims and Hindus, and people from every community. Although the conditions of Mandsaur have not been passed down in any book of history, I learned the following from the oral traditions of its oldest inhabitants. This place was first settled by Raja Jasrat, the father of Ramchandar. It was called Jasratpuri. After a long existence it was suddenly destroyed.

The reason for its destruction is this. Once, a faqir named Dhundhari Dhamal started living nearby. He was a master of miracles and revelations. He would send his disciple into the city to beg so that they would have something to subsist on. However, the people of this city were so stingy that they would not give him even a pinch of flour or their scraps, much less deign to open their doors for him. With no other choice, the poor disciple ended up going to the forest to cut wood, which he then sold. He would then arrange with the oil woman for his master’s repast. He never told his master about this.

One day, the dervish happened to glance at his disciple’s head, which no longer had a single hair on it. “What happened to all your hair?” he asked. The disciple evaded his questions, but his master persisted. He finally recounted the entire story. That dervish, whose prayers were always answered, flew into a rage. He brought a curse to his justice-seeking tongue and the entire town was immediately annihilated, save the oil woman’s home. For ages afterward, the town remained desolate.

May God protect us! Avarice is such a negative quality and one of the vilest of human characteristics, worthy only of scorn and disgust.