Tulsidas, the poet, was wandering, deep in thought, by the Ganges, in that lonely spot where they burn their dead.  
He found a woman sitting at the feet of the of her dead husband, dressed as for a wedding.
 
She rose as she saw him, bowed to him, and said, “Permit me, Master, with your , to follow my husband to heaven.”
 
“Why such hurry, my daughter?” asked Tulsidas. “Is not this earth also His who made heaven?”
 
“For heaven I do not long,” said the woman. “I want my husband.”
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