Tukaram, Poem 1342

We take a handful of clean corn and fill the mouth of the mill; if we fill it with dirt, then we spoil everything. O dear companion, fan your corn and clean it! O wicked one, why have you spoiled what was ready? See that what you have in your fan is clean, or you will spoil everything, you wretch! What you have in the fan you can look after; if you grind rubbish, you will spoil your dinner. While you have it in your fan, attend to it; if you grind it as it is, you will waste everything. As you grind it, the stones rattle—can’t you hear it?—where are your eyes and ears? While it is in the fan, you can clean it; but if you do not take the trouble, you will get into difficulties.