The poet asked: "Oh! friend Malini, are you going?"
"Your verses have no flavour," replied the Malini.
"Malini! you will never reach heaven."
"Why so?"
"There is a staircase to heaven. By ascending millions of steps heaven is reached. My poem has also a staircase; these tasteless verses are the steps. If you can't climb these few steps, how will you ascend the heavenly ladder?"
The Malini then, in fear of losing heaven through the Brahmin's curse, listened to the Megha Duta from beginning to end. She admired the poem; and next day, binding a wreath of flowers in the name of Cupid, she crowned the poet's temples therewith.
This ordinary poem of mine is not heaven; neither has it a staircase of a million steps. Its flavour is faint and the steps are few. These few tasteless chapters are the staircase. If among my readers there is one of the Malini's disposition, I warn him that without climbing these steps he will not arrive at the pith of the story.
