The children readily agreed to my proposal. “We do not need these costly presents, we must return them to the community, and should we ever need them, we could easily purchase them,” they said.
I was delighted. “Then you will plead with mother, won’t you?” I asked them.
“Certainly,” said they. “That is our business. She does not need to wear the ornaments. She would want to keep them for us, and if we don’t want them, why should she not agree to part with them?”
But it was easier said than done.
“You may not need them,” said my wife. “Your children may not need them. Cajoled, they will dance to your tune. I can understand your not permitting me to wear them. But what about my daughters-in-law? They will be sure to need them. And who knows what will happen tomorrow? I would be the last person to part with gifts so lovingly given.”
And thus the torrent of argument went on, reinforced, in the end, by tears. But the children were adamant. And I was unmoved.
I mildly put in: “The children have yet to get married. We do not want to see them married young. When they are grown up, they can take care of themselves. And surely we shall not have, for our sons, brides who are fond of ornaments. And if, after all, we need to provide them with ornaments, I am there. You will ask me then.”
“Ask you? I know you by this time. You deprived me of my ornaments, you would not leave me in peace with them. Fancy you offering to get ornaments for the daughters-in-law! You who are trying to make sadhus of my boys from today! No, the ornaments will not be returned. And pray what right have you to my necklace?”
“But,” I rejoined, “is the necklace given you for your service or for my service?”