The sadhu and the Loin-cloth

Sadhu Jeevandas, we all agreed,
Was an ascetic beyond compare—
He sat under that Banyan tree
His face showed no care

He owned nothing, he was totally free
Day and night, rain or shine
Hot or cold, whatever the degree
You’d never see him sulk or whine

One night a rat began to gnaw and nibble
At his loin-cloth—his only possession
The Sadhu’s mind showed signs of trouble
The rat disturbed his meditation

The Sadhu got himself a cat
To rid him of the worrying vermin
But after the cat had killed the rat
It still needed feeding night and morning

So the Sadhu got himself a cow
And then some land so the cow could graze
Before too long, he picked a plough
And tilled the land and grew some maize
In time he had to build a shed
To store the grain that he had grown
And that’s where he now laid his head
So the cow wouldn’t have to sleep alone

To plant and till and grow and sell
Soon became the story of his sorry life
To get out from his lonely hell,
The Sadhu got himself a wife

Now Jeevandas, we all agree,
Is a pitiable figure beyond compare
He sits under the banyan tree
His wrinkled face is full of care.


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