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There is a story of Gurujī, one of the many satsaṅg stories. Should I tell the whole story or only the end? You see, fortunate are those who have a life of very harmonious family life. When a couple has perfect harmony, understanding, and love, that is the happiest family. If husband and wife share the same opinions, decisions, and qualities, then they have the kingdom of heaven. They are in heaven like a king. In Urdu they say, "Miyā̃, bābū rājī, kyā kare kājī?" If the husband and wife are happy and in agreement, then even the Kājī, the priest, can do nothing. On the other hand, if the husband and wife have no harmony and quarrel constantly—if he dislikes what she says and she dislikes what he says—then life is difficult. There was a farmer who was very spiritual, wise, and devoted. He would help anyone who came and was very humble and devoted when he saw sādhus. But his wife was like a dog with rabies. The husband had no chance to come near her; she would always say, "Go and do this, go and do that." Especially if he brought any sādhu home, she would become like a volcano. She did not want any spiritual people, sādhus, or priests in the house. One day, a group of sādhus came, about twenty or thirty. They came to his farm in the evening. This farmer was a great devotee, but his wife was not of the same quality. She liked only herself and her family members. She did not want to go to temples or any spiritual places, and there were no prayers at home—not even an agrabattī (incense) or light. She gave her husband a hard time. But her husband would say, "It’s okay. If you come home and she doesn’t cook, is it okay? Today there will be no eating, is it okay?" When she would get very angry, he would say, "Darling, don’t lose your energy. I accept my mistake." He was great. The best way is to let someone’s aggression out. If we swallow everything inside, we will have many problems: stomach problems or various psychic issues. To be a good husband means to be silent. If she says something very harsh, just say, "Yes, I understand, thank you." At that time, she is boiling inside, because no answer is an answer. It is such an answer that brings purification. The next day she might say, "I’m sorry." He would ask, "For what?" She would reply, "I was not nice to you yesterday." He would say, "Which yesterday? I didn’t listen to what you were talking about." Again she would get angry. She wouldn’t say, "Oh, God." Instead, she’d say, "Ah, God, devil. Why do I have such bad luck to have such a husband?" He would say, "Darling, now we can’t help it. We have to spend a lifetime together. But you will see how the rest of the years he is full of schooling." He would say, "Listen, let our karma finish in this life. I am happy. I thank God to have such a wife. I pray that such a wife should be only for a rare, special person." Well, one day, a group of sādhus came—thirty of them. This morning I told you twenty-one, but I missed nine, so I went to count again. According to poetry, there are some nice Hindi connections to words. One day, around nine o’clock, the sādhus were coming on foot. Of course, at that time there were no proper roads; one traveled either by walking, riding a horse, or an ox cart. At nine o’clock, they came to the farmhouse of that farmer. It was a beautiful field with many vegetables and fruits, very perfect. He had a very nice water well and was pumping water to irrigate the fields. The sādhus thought, "Oh, there is good fresh water. We will wash ourselves there and wash our clothes, very good." When the farmer saw the sādhus coming, the orange cloth for him was like the divine goddess from the Brahmaloka. He thought, "How fortunate I am. How lucky I am." I think Mīrābāī said, "That day will be counted as my life on the day when I meet a saint or see the saint, respect sannyāsī, saint, orange cloth. Respect, be careful with Gajanan. Don’t make a joke with him. Don’t sit close to him. When he comes near you, you go two meters away." Sitting very close to a sanyāsī is an infection; it is dangerous. They asked—the farmer asked them, "What about your eating, dear sir? It is 9 o’clock now; eating time is 11 or 12, so you haven’t eaten?" They said, "No." Then he said, "God will give when His time comes. The weight of the stomach we don’t carry on our shoulders." Those who carry sandwiches and this and that for a little picnic all the time have no trust in God. A little corn, sugar, or seed for the ant, and 100 kilos for the elephant. Every day God gives. They don’t carry anything on their back. So the farmer said, "Please, can you be so kind today and bless my house and eat there?" They said, "Good luck, bhakta, you are the fortunate one. We are a group of thirty sādhus, thank you. At eleven, we will eat at eleven thirty. We will relax, wash our clothes, wash ourselves, do our prāṇāyāma, āsanas, yoga, and daily routine. You go home to prepare the food." On the way home, his heart was heavy. Inside he thought, "At least I have an opportunity once in my life to give food to the sādhus." But at home, he thought, "Rākṣasanī, she will first kill me and then them. What to do?" That’s why many men don’t come home early in the evening. They go to some party, pub, or gambling and come very late, nearly two o’clock, when she is already sleeping. Or he—when I’m talking, it applies to both. You know, either he or she, but in this case, it was she. He thought, "What will I do?" For certain things, you have to lie for the sake of her protection, his protection, the sādhus’ protection, and the protection of my promise. At 9:30, he came home. She said, "Stupid one, what are you doing here? It’s time to work in the field. Why are you running here and there? Crazy. Who will take care of the field? Where’s my stick?" He said, "My dear, Mahāśakti. Don’t talk like this." She said, "Why are you not in the field?" He replied, "Yes, what can I tell you?" She said, "Tell me quickly and go into the field." He said, "You know, thirty people came from your birthplace, from your village. As a wedding party, they were traveling the whole night and were very tired, and they came to our farmhouse." She asked, "Where are they? I think you are normal. Where are they? Good, good, good that you came. They are just washing themselves. They are very tired, so first I should go and see them, meet them, get their blessings and give them blessings. Oh, golden sunrise, my people from my village. Oh, my, my... my... my... let’s go?" He said, "Moment, moment. Don’t be so hasty." She said, "Why? I should not meet my people? Who are you to stop me? You take care of the home; I go there." He said, "You can meet them after as many hours or days as you want. They are hungry. They are tired. And they will say, 'What kind of girl is this from our village?' They still see her as stupid." She said, "What did you say?" He said, "Don’t talk. Cook something nice for them." She asked, "Are you sure it’s my people or yours? Are there some sādhus? Are there some sādhus?" He replied, "Yes, they are your sādhus from your village." You know, all the time people loved their village as their own family. Every boy of the village she respects as a brother, and every brother respects every girl as their sister. Different houses, but the whole village is one family. So he said, "Cook quickly. I will wait, and I will take food there, and then I will bring them here." She said, "Are you normal?" He said, "Yes. My people, they are not beggars that you give food there. No, no... they will come here." She said, "So go and bring them while I cook." He said, "Okay, no problem. Exactly 11:30, you know that your people are so punctual and correct. Yes, and they love to come on time and go on time. And they are very hungry, so you should prepare food already served." He spoke like this to normalize things. He said, "Eleven thirty, thirty thālīs will be prepared." So he went. Now she made a lot of good food. For an Indian woman, thirty people is nothing. Even if you have 100 people, it is no problem to prepare all the food within two hours. And here you will take three days to cook and put it in the fridge. That’s the talent. Your happy, bright future will only begin when you can cook. Learn cooking. If you want to be rich, healthy, happy, and have a bright future, learn cooking. Don’t learn any engineering or anything else. Good, healthy cooking food. Your children will be brilliant. So she prepared food: halvā, parāṭhās, three sabjīs, and khīr, and what not, and afterward, nice mango juice. She prepared everything and waited nicely, washed and made up. She also had time to make up. She said, "When will he come? When will he come?" He went from the back side of the house, and just as they would enter the house—because if she sees them 100 meters away, I think they will not have a good day today, and this will be the last day of my life. So first he entered, and she said, "Where are they? We had to welcome them nicely." So she said, "Come here, stand here, welcome them." The sādhus came, saying, "Hari Om, Hari Om, Namaḥ Nārāyaṇa." Now she said, "Oh, my God. They are not my people." It was his people, and she took a big bamboo stick. But of course, the farmer was strong. He caught her and tied her onto a tree in the yard, nicely. The sādhus were from somewhere in East India, so they didn’t understand the Rajasthani dialect. They all came. Food was ready. And she was screaming and trying to throw the dust, the sand from her feet, onto their thālīs. The sādhus asked, "Bhakta, what happened to your wife? Is there a problem? We don’t understand what she is talking about." He said, "Yes, she has some psychic problems. She cooks beautiful food, you see? Nicely prepared. But when someone begins to eat, then she becomes crazy, and she tries to throw the dust inside. That’s why I tie her here." And she said, "His father, his mother, they are all crazy. He’s crazy, I’m normal, he’s crazy. Wait, wait. Tonight you will see." They asked, "What did she say?" He said, "She said something. Wait and eat peacefully." All the sādhus said, "We bless her. She will be normal one day." Again, she said, "I don’t need your blessing. I am normal; you are all not normal." It is like on the highway, one was driving the wrong way. Then the radio announced, "Careful, one ghost is driving on the wrong way." And he looked to his wife and said, "This is stupid. Why did you want ghosts? Look how many ghosts come in opposite." Well, they finished eating and washed their hands. Then the farmer went into the house and took money. He gave it to them, and there was also some cloth, dhotī, so he gave to all thirty beautiful, nice souls. And she said, "You crazy one, you broke my heart. You took all my money, a belt away from my whole life. They are not my people; they are yours." The sādhu got up and said, "Namo Nārāyaṇa, Namo Nārāyaṇa." The āśramadā said, "Go quickly out." So the farmer said to the sādhus, "Thank you," and he accompanied them. He said to his wife, "This is your house, this is your life, do what you want. I go with the sādhus," and he left. When such couples are together, then life is horror. Therefore, there are ceremonies and prayers before marriage, even when you don’t know who will be your husband or who will be your wife. From childhood, you are praying because household life becomes complete when the wife and husband hold their hand for the first time, and that hand will be opened only at the time of the funeral. But the soul will go with. Even if someone dies, that is a tyāga. Many times, one of the persons of the couple dies. The one who remains behind has a tyāga and tapasyā, the renunciation lifelong; he or she will remain as the partner of that one. There is one song in German: "I will be faithful to you always." But the last sentence, the last word is, I don’t like it. And that said, when I die, I will stop being faithful to you. I change it: even if I will die, I will be faithful forever. Such a couple will meet again. The body is separated, but the soul, Jīvātmā, is together. And that mother or father gives love to the children, both love—as a mother’s love and a father’s love—that is a protection for our society. That is the understanding of human quality. Otherwise, it is called Paśu Saṁskṛti and Mānav Saṁskṛti. Therefore, there is a prayer from the beginning when the girls are small—five, ten years, twelve years, fifteen years, twenty years—they go for prayers and pūjās and this. Because this is the job of the women. Men don’t care. And that’s why, after marriage, he’s surprised. But mostly the dharma, what we call in this world the dharma, is surviving because of the women. Women have great devotion and love to God, to the children. Wherever you see spiritual gatherings, they are mostly women. In the church, mostly women. In spiritual lectures, mostly women. In satsaṅgs, they are women. Everywhere, and for humanitarian things, good work, women are the first. So dharma is surviving because of the women. There is only one place where there are more men: prison and army. That army means that is the greatness of the men—to protect the territory and protect our nation and families. So, my dear, both sides have good qualities and bad qualities, but the women are great. Ask them why, for example, in our meetings, the majority are women, and why they come. You ask, "I don’t know, I don’t ask them, 'Why did you come?'" Oh God, if I ask this, "Why did you come?" I need three bodyguards, and these three bodyguards are called, you know them, Sattva, Rajas, and Tamas. All three guṇas have to be awakened. So, my dear, we are lucky ones that we have a good father and good mother, and we are lucky ones that you have a good couple partner. And you are good that you have good children. Human life is different. So before getting married at all, you decide someone to be married, and you find someone. Before that, you are praying, so according to your prayer, that will come. Wait, it will come. If not this life, the next life will come. And if not next, then next life, it will come. That is called tyāga and tapasyā. That’s called satī. That’s called the powerful one, but our tires are flat. We can’t survive or go further. Therefore, human life has different principles, different aims, to achieve something. Otherwise, mother and father have all animals. Eating, sleeping, doing all—every animal does. Everyone survives and feels their pain, stomach, doesn’t matter how. But what is the difference then? As long as you keep discipline, you have such strong energy and willpower. There is a bhajan from Mahāprabhujī, and this bhajan is directed to our vṛtti, sūratā. Our vṛtti means we look and we say, "Oh, I like this. Oh, this is mango, I like this. Ice cream, that I will drink." These are our vṛttis. So these vṛttis have been with you for many, many lives. And many times you were disappointed. That’s called śruta. Vṛtti, śrutā. Śrutā, you know what is śrutā? Śrutā means our visions. Not Śrotā. Not Śrotriya. Not Śāstras. Not Smṛti. That is a different subject. Śrutā means also our destination. According to that sūtra, they designed what we call nowadays a navigator. So we type our address, and our vehicle will be guided by our navigator door to door. So we are here as the traveler in our car, and our destination... When you are here, you say, "Thank you, I am here." You telephone home, "I arrived very well." So our destination is God, Ātmā-jñāna, Mokṣa, which is not possible without the Satguru-dev. So we are the traveler. We are on the journey. This journey is still not a destination. But while your navigator is guiding, you decide to go somewhere else. Or you see something, you say, "Oh, it’s very interesting. We will go tomorrow; we stay here." Only the navigator can turn back. So if you lose your path, you lose your bhakti, you lose your devotion, still you can turn back and take your original path. So, surta surta is a beautiful word for our destiny. There is a bhajan of Mahāprabhujī. Surta is feminine, the word. So many, many days and years and months and ages, billions and trillions of years, I was wandering here and there, here and there. I didn’t find my partner. Many times I was wandering here and there like a lonely deer which lost the group. Many times I did karmas, and I was sad because this was not my partner. Brahmaveta means that Ātmā Jñānī who can lead me also to the Ātmā Jñāna. This beautiful bhajan has these great meanings. So sūtra is a beautiful word. There is one bhajan, "Surta Vajayega," oh my surta, go there. So tyāga means not that you have to renounce your household life; you marry, okay? For that, God has created? It’s okay, but not like this. Five times a year, you introduce me to your new boyfriend. That’s too much. Śrī Rām Jaya Rām Jaya Jaya Amma Śrī Rām, Amma Śrī Rām, Jaya Jaya Rām, Śrī Amma Śrī Rām, Śrī Rām, Jaya Rām, Jaya Jaya Rām, Śrī Amma Śrī Rām, Jaya Rām, Jaya Jaya Rām, Śrī Amma Śrī Rām, Jaya Rām, Jaya Jaya Rām, Śrī Amma Śrī Rām, Jaya Rām, Jaya Rām, Śrī Amma Śrī Rām, Jaya Rām, Śrī Amma. Śrī Rām, Jaya Rām, Śrī Amma Śrī Rām, Jaya Rām, Śrī Amma Śrī Rām, Jaya Rām, Śrī Amma Śrī Rām, Śrī Amma Śrī... Rām, Jaya Rām, Śrī Ammā Śrī Rām, Śrī Ammā Śrī... Rām. With the mantras, invited all the divinities to be as witnesses that you are going to marry. Or when you go to the church and there you promise. And that’s why the church doesn’t allow second marriage. Why? There must be some human principles. So what do people do? They say, "I will not be a member of the church." So it’s okay, it’s your choice. I was telling you a story. So the choice is yours, and the fruits of destiny are not in your hands. So Tyāga, Virāga, and Tapasyā, these are great words. Christ is not easy. Tyāga means not that I will not have money, I will not have a house. This is nothing. Inner tyāga is to endure the challenges of life. So, Dīp Nayan Bhagavān Kī Devīśvara Mahādeva Satguru Swāmī Madhavānandajī Bhagavān Satya Sanātana Dharma Om Śāntiḥ Śāntiḥ... This is my Maishweta Dhanājī Guru.