ghaṭikâ of this night. Yama ordered me to go and fetch him to his world. I came down and reached this house at the eighth ghaṭikâ when the husband was giving the order to reserve for the morning meal his dear dhâl soup. I could not contain my laughter, and so broke out with a gurgling noise. As I am divine no one could perceive me. And so none ever found me in this house after they heard the laughter. Then I transformed myself into a serpent and waited for the hour to do my death-dealing duty. The poor man is now no more. Four ghaṭikâs ago he was of opinion that he would live and eat his cold rice to-morrow morning. How very sanguine people are in this world of uncertainty. The cause for my laughter was the husband’s certainty when he issued that order to reserve the dhâl soup for the breakfast.”
Thus ended the messenger, and vanished of course to inform his master how he had executed his orders.
And from that day, my children, it was fixed that our life in this world is always uncertain, and that one who lives at this moment cannot be sure of doing so at the next moment. While such is the case, how can you say, “Keep the pudding for to-morrow morning.” Since you saw in the story just related to you, that we can never be certain of our life, you must say, instead of “for to-morrow morning, for the beggar.” If we keep it for the beggar,
