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Updated: July 18, 2025
He found a woman sitting at the feet of the corpse of her dead husband, gaily dressed as for a wedding. She rose as she saw him, bowed to him, and said, "Permit me, Master, with your blessing, to follow my husband to heaven." "Why such hurry, my daughter?" asked Tulsidas. "Is not this earth also His who made heaven?" "For heaven I do not long," said the woman. "I want my husband."
Tulsidas smiled and said to her, "Go back to your home, my child. Before the month is over you will find your husband." The woman went back with glad hope. Tulsidas came to her every day and gave her high thoughts to think, till her heart was filled to the brim with divine love. When the month was scarcely over, her neighbours came to her, asking, "Woman, have you found your husband?"
"I die into the fulness," said my life to me. The Earth said, "My lights kiss your thoughts every moment." "The days pass," Love said, "but I wait for you." Death said, "I ply the boat of your life across the sea." Tulsidas, the poet, was wandering, deep in thought, by the Ganges, in that lonely spot where they burn their dead.
Not that she has no faults; I daresay she has many more than I see myself. But the feeling of an indissoluble bond is there. Even so I feel for and about Hinduism with all its faults and limitations. Nothing delights me so much as the music of the GITA, or the RAMAYANA by Tulsidas. When I fancied I was taking my last breath, the GITA was my solace. Hinduism is not an exclusive religion.
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