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Man does not have to become great; rather, he must become aware of his own potentiality for greatness; he does not have to search for it without, it must grow nourished from within him.
The King of Vaishali had an only son. One night, a gang of dacoits raided his palace and when they left they kidnapped the five year old prince. The leader of the dacoits brought up the prince as his own son. Fifteen years passed by. The leader of the dacoits was now an old man and so the leadership passed into the hands of the twenty year old youth. One day the King was out hunting in the forest when he came face to face with the young chieftain. The King looked at him with a steady eye and was strangely moved. At first he could not understand what drew him to this young stranger. He looked carefully again and now he saw a prominent mole on the other's forehead. His heart skipped a beat and past memories came flooding into his mind. Had not his beloved child an identical mole: That was fifteen years ago and his son had been five years old then. This young man could not be more than twenty. It all seemed to click. Barely able to control the tremor in his voice he asked, "Who are you?"
