Listening to this, it was as if he suddenly awoke from a dream. What was he doing? What had he done? And his mother had not complained, was not even angry. On the contrary, she had inquired, “Are you hurt? – because you’ve fallen on the ground. I have always been telling you to go slowly, but you never listen to me. Now collect all the pieces and go back home.”
He collected the pieces, went home, and forgot all about that woman.
The woman waited and waited. One day passed, another day passed. She said, “What happened?” She went to the man’s house, found that he had killed his mother. She said, “What happened then? Where is the heart?”
It was on a plate, in fragments. He said, “This is the heart, but something happened on the road that made me turn back. I knew for the first time what love means. I am grateful to you; otherwise I would have never understood that my mother was so concerned about my welfare. And I cannot forgive myself, that I killed the woman with my own hands. As for you, who asked such a condition…”
Love makes no conditions. Love gives you freedom to be yourself, helps you to be yourself. Even if it goes against his own interest, still, a loving person will suffer himself, rather than make the loved one suffer.
Another ancient story:
A woman loved her husband, but the husband never paid any attention to her. He was in love with a prostitute, knowing perfectly well that prostitutes don’t love – because there were many other customers. He was only a customer, not a lover. And in his life he had seen that the day the customer’s money is finished, the prostitute’s door is closed for that man.
He had destroyed his health, he had destroyed his money; now he was dying. Just as he was dying, his wife asked him, “If you have any last wish so that you can die contented…”
He said, “Yes, I have a wish, but I am ashamed to say it to you.”
She said, “Don’t be ashamed. This is not the time to be ashamed. I love you as you are, there is no question of feeling ashamed.”
He said, “My only wish is to see the prostitute just once more before I die.”
The woman said, “There is no problem.”
He had lost all their money; there was no money in the house. She had to carry the dying man on her shoulders to the prostitute’s house. She knocked on the door.
The prostitute opened the door and could not believe it. She said, “Am I hallucinating? Is this real? You are the wife of the man…”
The wife said, “Yes, I am the wife and also the lover of the man.”
The prostitute said, “Then why have you brought him here? He destroyed your life, he spent all your money and he was mad after me. And to me, once the money is finished, all relationship is finished. He was only a customer. This is a marketplace and he knows it. You are a strange woman.”