In plain words
So he would not let go of it, thinking it a duty. At once he would sit down there, joyfully doing bhajan. Then he would make it pure. Then: ‘Kṛṣṇa, now it has become pure. Come and join me; now it has become pure. I have opened the doors,’ so he would call, with great longing, joyfully. Whenever it grows unclean, at once we must try to make it pure. How will uncleanness go by saying ‘uncleanness, uncleanness’? Uncleanness on uncleanness, it gets caked on. We must go on cleaning it time after time.
‘My husband, the king, has gone, has he not?’: so the queen sat down by Padmāvatī. That Padmāvatī too was a great devotee. A wife fit for Jayadeva. To find such people is good fortune. If the husband is good, the wife may be a shrew. If the wife is good, the husband may be cruel. But a marriage like this comes by good fortune. Here, Padmāvatī would think of Kṛṣṇa; and in all that her husband did, ‘I too have not been granted such a lot!’: so, within herself, she would shed streams of tears and be full of Ānanda. Meanwhile a man came running. ‘Mother, Mother!’ he said. The queen raised her head and looked. Padmāvatī did not raise her head at all. ‘Her solitude and her Praśānti must not be disturbed’: so she quietly asked him what it was. Padmāvatī's elder brother had died of a heart attack. So, when he had been laid on the pyre, his wife was entering that pyre in sahagamana. In those days there were no telegrams or posts or any of these. So, because a man had to carry the news, there was delay. ‘So I have come to tell her,’ he said. Saying this was a very urgent matter, the queen roused Padmāvatī. She opened her eyes and looked. She asked what was wanted. ‘Your elder brother has died, they say. Your sister-in-law is going in sahagamana, they say. You must go at once, they say,’ she told her. She smiled: ‘Who is whose brother? Who is whose sister-in-law? There may be a bodily relationship, but I have no relationship. Whoever has come must go some day. There is always some cause or other. These are the plays that God performs. Beyond that, I am not grieving over this at all. There is no need to go,’ she said. When He wants to bring someone to Himself, He sends even a snake, has it bite him, and calls him to His side. When I need something, I send someone or other. There will be a student. There will be Chiranjeevi Rao. There will be Kutumba Rao; I send someone else, telling him, ‘Bring them,’ and send him off. In just the same way, when God wishes to bring someone, He sends a snake or a scorpion or a heart attack and calls him. It is He who calls; we have no authority at all to go. So we need not grieve over this. ‘Oho! There is so much great Vedānta in all this!’: so the queen thought; and she tried to test her, to some extent: was this real, or was she putting on a stunt?