There was a middle-class household in a small town where the wife was daily pleading with the husband to spend some little time in prayer and reverential worship of God. The husband refused to yield, for, as he said, he had no time to spare for such pastimes which are best taken up during old age, when the process of earning and spending receives a natural setback and there will be ample leisure. The pious lady could not derive any consolation from this reply. She could only wait for some more auspicious opportunity when her advice would fall on receptive ears.
Meanwhile, the husband was affected by a serious illness and he was bedridden for a few weeks. The doctors advised him to take some tablets thrice a day. The wife accepted the task of administering the tablets and kept them with her; however, she did not give him even one.
The husband was put out by her intransigence. He demanded the tablets, but she was firm in her resolve. In reply to his question, “Are you conspiring to kill me?” she said, “Wait, wait, why hurry to take the medicine so soon? Let the illness become more serious. Why all this haste? Go slow, go slow. There is enough time, as you said when I wanted you to pray and do Namasmarana.” The husband realised that his stand was foolish. So, he mended his ways, and cured himself of both types of illness.
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