It happened once upon a time that a Sadhu came to a river to bathe, and when he was finished, he stood on a rock at the edge of the river and began to pray.

The rock was one where a local washerman, or dhobi, habitually washed clothes, and while the Sadhu was still praying this man arrived at the riverbank with a large bundle of clothes to wash. Seeing the Sadhu there, he waited for a while, but then began to grow impatient.

“Mahatma-ji,” he said, “please step aside and let me do the needful.”

The Sadhu glanced around, and then seeing the dhobi, waved him away scornfully, and arrogantly resumed his prayers.

Now the washerman became more impatient, and stepping forward, took the Sadhu by the hand, and tried to pull him away from the rock. The Sadhu, feeling defiled by the touch, reacted violently, striking the washerman, the washerman struck back, and in no time the two were engaged in a vigorous struggle.

The Sadhu was a wiry fighter but the washerman was rather strong, and he was soon sitting on the Sadhu’s chest.

Then the Sadhu, beginning to fear for his life, called aloud, “Divine Lord! I am your devoted servant! Can you not save me?”

Suddenly light surrounded the pair, and a voice said, “Yes, I would save you – if I could tell you two apart!”