The good doctor is being stubborn, not out of arrogance or ignorance, rather, he wants the other man to stop and think. The other man is namely a local businessman, important in the village because he employs many people and contributes to the maintenance of roads and public buildings and services. Doctor Krishna is listening to his congested lungs, listening for pneumonia.
"We shall get our rewards in heaven," the well-fed man puffs.
"But aren't you required to live a simple life, to give up your riches?" asks the doctor.
"Not if i contribute grandly to the well-being of this village, these people: someone must do that, surely you agree doctor? We can't all be grubbing about in the muck and praising our simplicity while dying of destitution! Surely this is not God's will?"
"It seems to me that your reward leads you like a carrot leads a mule through life, enticing you to be good and stay on the path against your natural inclinations: you can afford to smoke a lot, yet it is killing you. Perhaps some simplicity might save your lungs? And the extra money might be used for latrines in the poorer quarters of the village?" the doctor suggests, moving around to listen to his heart.
"The poor have so much free time, precisely because they don't work. With all that free time they could dig new latrines, clear their roads of rocks and litter, they might even paint their homes and show a little civic pride: i could use the tobacco money i save to sell them some paint at cost!" he exclaims, as if to himself, beaming with his new civic idea, "I might even throw in a shovel or two!"
"And God shall reward your efforts," Dr. Krishna says, "Your goodness and thoughtfulness, your tender concern for the well being of all villagers shall earn you a place in heaven?"
"Despite what you see, doctor, I am a simple man by heart."
"You might want to cut down on the rich foods and desserts, by the way, so that your heart can thank you in this lifetime", advises the thin, brown man, standing back to rethink his diagnosis, "You had best not wait until your Judgement to reap your rewards, sir. If you wish to avoid any suffering of illness, you may want to act now. The poor, the hungry and the weeping can choose to wait or know heaven now by embracing the Truth: a reward had now, is better than a reward promised in the future, i dare say."
Slightly confused, the rich man pockets the prescription that would cost any other villager a week's wages, and goes outside for a smoke.
"We shall get our rewards in heaven," the well-fed man puffs.
"But aren't you required to live a simple life, to give up your riches?" asks the doctor.
"Not if i contribute grandly to the well-being of this village, these people: someone must do that, surely you agree doctor? We can't all be grubbing about in the muck and praising our simplicity while dying of destitution! Surely this is not God's will?"
"It seems to me that your reward leads you like a carrot leads a mule through life, enticing you to be good and stay on the path against your natural inclinations: you can afford to smoke a lot, yet it is killing you. Perhaps some simplicity might save your lungs? And the extra money might be used for latrines in the poorer quarters of the village?" the doctor suggests, moving around to listen to his heart.
"The poor have so much free time, precisely because they don't work. With all that free time they could dig new latrines, clear their roads of rocks and litter, they might even paint their homes and show a little civic pride: i could use the tobacco money i save to sell them some paint at cost!" he exclaims, as if to himself, beaming with his new civic idea, "I might even throw in a shovel or two!"
"And God shall reward your efforts," Dr. Krishna says, "Your goodness and thoughtfulness, your tender concern for the well being of all villagers shall earn you a place in heaven?"
"Despite what you see, doctor, I am a simple man by heart."
"You might want to cut down on the rich foods and desserts, by the way, so that your heart can thank you in this lifetime", advises the thin, brown man, standing back to rethink his diagnosis, "You had best not wait until your Judgement to reap your rewards, sir. If you wish to avoid any suffering of illness, you may want to act now. The poor, the hungry and the weeping can choose to wait or know heaven now by embracing the Truth: a reward had now, is better than a reward promised in the future, i dare say."
Slightly confused, the rich man pockets the prescription that would cost any other villager a week's wages, and goes outside for a smoke.
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