In plain words
There are many people, too, who regard good and bad both as equal and pass their time in happiness. How is this? There was Tukārām. He was a great devotee. But he was a householder. His wife was a great shrew. Even so, he would strive to bring himself properly into harmony with her mind and to act accordingly. Only when word meets word and blow meets blow does it turn into a great disaster. This Tukārām put up with everything, all of it, and passed his time in peace. How? He had half an acre of land. He used to cultivate it somehow, to support his family. At the urging of his neighbours, he tried to grow sugarcane on his half acre of field. Somehow he grew it, poor man. Everyone knew Tukārām's weakness, so by the time it was fully ripe, someone going that way would break off a cane and eat it, someone going this way would break off a cane and eat it: the sugarcane became food for passers-by. At last, meaning to bring home whatever was left, he yoked a cart and went to the sugarcane field. He tied up the sugarcane in a bundle. He was coming home in the cart, and all the children who met him on the way asked him, every one, 'A cane for me!' Tyāga was Tukārām's nature. Having such a spirit of tyāga, he gave to everyone who asked. By the time he reached home only one cane was left. The cart arrived. His wife saw it. 'What is this? You have brought just one cane? How do you think you will keep the household going? When you do not have the means to support your wife and children, why did you marry at all? If you give everything away to others like this, what becomes of your own affairs?' So in her anger she said all sorts of things, took the cane that was in the cart and beat her husband with it. Two pieces of the cane broke off and fell to the ground, and one piece stayed in his wife's hand. Tukārām was very happy. 'From the time I set out in the cart all the way until I came here, I came with a great many problems. Now my problem is solved. What was my problem? I was taking home one cane. There are two children. There is one wife. I kept thinking how I should share it out. You yourself have solved my problem,' he said. 'For of the two that fell down, one goes to one child and the second to the second child, and the one in your hand does for the wife. My problem is solved.' So he said. In this way, however strongly the power of the senses presses upon them, only some great souls have the citta that brings it into harmony.