Jnanoba gathered the remaining stalks and ears of corn shedding tears. "Every thing is the play of Panduranga; he himself is our saviour," said he and consoled himself. In the midst of this hope and despair, he cut the stalks, bundled them, prepardet a field and threshed the bundle. Thinking of Panduranga he made a heap. There was no limit to jnanoba’s joy. Setting apart the quantity due to Salomalo,keeping his portion, he carted the rest to Tukaram’s house. Touching Tukaram’s feet out of respect, he humbly said: "Your greatness is immense. Not knowing your helpful attitude, I a stupid person caused you mental anguish, by forcing you to make over your house. Pardon my offence. This heap of corn, which is more than anticipated, rightly belongs to you."

"Jnanoba, God Vittala, pleased by your devotion, has granted a suitable return, according to your effort. I have no part in this. Turn round the carts and take the grain to your home.

"Respectable Tukaram, once at least look at the row of carts. This is your heap of corn. I have come here to offer you what is rightly yours.’

"The grain in excess of expectation is not mine as it is not yours," said Tukaram.

Instantly an idea struck Jnanoba. Reserving the heap for the restoration of the Panduranga temple which had been built eight generations earlier, keeping one bag in Tukaram’s house, he transported the remaining bags to the temple.