The merchant mocked him, asking, "If your Kanhaiya is so real, why do you live in this broken hut? Why do you wear rags?"

He didn't just weave cloth; he wove conversations with an invisible friend.

“Mohe pagal jamana kahe, Kanhaiya tere liye…” (The world calls me crazy, O Kanhaiya, all for you…)

That night, a heavy storm shook the village. The merchant’s grand mansion felt cold and lonely, but through the thunder, he heard a faint, divine flute playing from the direction of the woods. He followed the sound, certain it was a trick of the wind.

One evening, a wealthy merchant passed by his hut and heard Madhav singing:

He reached Madhav’s hut and peered through the cracks. The hut was filled with a soft, blue light. Madhav was sitting on the floor, and though his back was to the door, there was a second shadow on the wall—a slender figure holding a flute to its lips.