I married a woman who was deeply religious. She prayed with devotion, followed every ritual, and often reminded me that faith was the light of life. I respected her beliefs and never once doubted her sincerity. But for some days, she had been acting strangely.

One evening, when I returned home early and found her missing again, I decided to follow. My steps led me to the edge of a forest, where I finally saw her… sitting beside a Sadhu.

The Sadhu held prayer beads, his long beard flowing as he spoke gently. She listened with rapt attention.

Wife (softly, with worry in her eyes): Maharaj, my heart is restless. I perform every prayer, yet I feel something is missing. Why is it so?

Sadhu (calmly): Child, devotion is not just in rituals, but in surrender. True prayer is not to ask, but to become still — like a river meeting the ocean.

Wife (sighing): But my husband is good to me, caring and loyal… still, this emptiness lingers inside. Am I being ungrateful?

Sadhu (smiling faintly): No, child. The love of a husband is precious, but the soul yearns for more — it longs to touch the divine. That is not betrayal; that is awakening.

Wife (looking down): Then what should I do? How do I balance my duty as a wife and this thirst within me?

Sadhu (closing his eyes): Serve your husband with love, but serve the divine with surrender. Both are paths of devotion. In truth, they are not separate.