Once upon a time a man with slow steps and bent with age came to the temple of his village, and greeted the guru who lived there.

“Guru-ji,” the man said, “I am old now, and soon I must expect to leave this world. I have always said prayers according to our way. Will I go to heaven?”

The guru said, “I will ask.”

The guru went into the silence, and when he opened his eyes again he said, “Heaven has never received any prayers from you.”

“What?” The man was thunder-struck. “Guru-ji, how can this be? I pray every day. Again this morning I have said the required prayers.”

“That may be so,” the guru said, “but they do not arrive. Someone must be stealing them.”

Deeply puzzled, the man said, “Then Guru-ji, I will pray now, under your protection. Please make sure that no one steals my prayers this time.”

“Very well,” said the guru. “Pray.”

The man said his prayers in the usual way, and then the guru closed his eyes. When he opened them, the man said expectantly, “Surely now they have arrived?”

“No,” said the guru. “Stolen again.”

“But HOW?” the man demanded. “Guru-ji, the only one who could have stolen these prayers was you!”

“What use would someone else’s prayers be to me?” the guru said, waving his hand dismissively. “What use would they be to anybody? To pray means to think of God, but you say prayers and think of yourself. Therefore the prayers never arrive at their destination because they are stolen, and the greedy thief of their virtue is none other than you yourself.”