Sikandar summoned the wise Indian physician to his court, seeking the secrets of perfect health and freedom from physical decline. The physician observed that human ailments spring primarily from overindulgence at the feast and a lack of moderation. He promised the King an extraordinary mountain remedy—a potion brewed from choice herbs gathered from the wild peaks that would keep his body eternally youthful, preserve his dark hair from turning white, clear his mind, and fill his heart with the joy of spring.
Astonished by the sage's insight, Sikandar bestowed high honors upon him, raising his rank above all royal healers. The Indian physician journeyed into the mountains with his attendants. Possessing profound knowledge of toxins and antidotes, he selected only the most potent herbs, discarding the useless ones, and crafted a pure therapeutic elixir. Washing the King's body with this mountain bath, he maintained Sikandar's health and vigor for years.
Yet as time passed, Sikandar yielded to nocturnal pleasures, spending sleepless nights in the arms of moon-faced women. This excessive indulgence subtly drained the monarch's vitality. When the Indian physician next examined the King, he detected subtle signs of decline in the clarity of Sikandar's eyes. He candidly warned the monarch that relentless intimacy prematurely ages a young man's frame, discerning that Sikandar had gone three nights without rest. Though the King insisted his body felt no weakness, the physician remained unconvinced.
That night, the sage prepared a complex potent tonic for physical depletion. Sikandar, reflecting on the physician's counsel, chose to sleep alone, abstaining from intimate company. The following morning, when the physician inspected the King, he saw that his eyes were radiant and free from fatigue. Knowing the monarch had rested fully, the physician joyfully tossed away the potion he had brewed, took up a goblet of wine, and called for music and feasting.
When Sikandar asked why he discarded a remedy fashioned with such painstaking effort, the healer replied that because the King had slept alone and allowed his body to naturally regenerate, no medicine was needed—temperance itself was the ultimate cure. Sikandar laughed in relief, freed from all anxiety. He praised the unmatched wisdom of India and rewarded the physician with a robe of honor, a purse of gold dinars, and a magnificent black horse adorned with golden trappings, praying that true wisdom would ever attend his noble counsel.