Tukaram, Poem 1070

When a man is madly fond of his wife, he keeps on saying “Yes, yes,” through deference to her. She makes idle complaints to her husband, as it suits her—“See, you cannot understand my sufferings. I cannot digest my food, though I have eaten eight pounds of wheat and six of flour. Last market day you brought me ten pounds of sugar and a half; it lasted me only a week. I have pain in my stomach continually, though I doctor myself with rice and milk and sugar and ghee. In the middle of the day I have spasms; I lie down on my mattress quite senseless, I cannot get to sleep, though I put flowers on my bed; I cannot bear the children near me. I put sandalwood paste on my brow, yet I have fever in my head continually. My bones have disappeared; my body is nothing but flesh; no one can describe my sufferings.” Tuka says, She makes an ass of her husband while he is alive, and when he is dead she drags him down to hell.