Are You Henpecked?

Love should be pure. It should not be impure.

You will be surprised to know that the English word `love’ comes from a very ugly root in Sanskrit. It comes from लोभ — LOBH. Lobh means greed. And as far as ordinary love is concerned, it is a kind of greed. That’s why there are people who love money, there are people who love houses, there are people who love this, who love that. Even if they love a woman or a man, it is simply their greed; they want to possess everything beautiful.

It is a power trip. Hence, you will find lovers continuously fighting, fighting about such trivia that they both feel ashamed, “About what things we go on fighting!” In their silent moments when they are alone, they feel, “Do I become possessed by some evil spirit? — such trivia, so meaningless.” But it is not a question of trivia; it is a question of who has power, who is more dominant, whose voice is heard.

Love cannot exist in such circumstances.

I have heard a story…. In the life of one of the great emperors of India, Akbar, there is a small story.

He was very much interested in all kinds of talented people, and from all over India he had collected nine people, the most talented geniuses, who were known as the “nine jewels of Akbar’s court.”

One day, just gossiping with his vice-councilors, he said, “Last night I was discussing with my wife. She is very insistent that every husband is henpecked. I tried hard, but she says, ‘I know many families, but I have never found any husband who is not henpecked.’ What do you think?” he asked the councilors.

One of the councilors, Birbal said, “Perhaps she is right, because you could not prove it. You yourself are a henpecked husband; otherwise, you could have firmly called her out on the spot, making it clear, ‘This is how I stand up as a partner! You could have proved then and there that ‘Look, here is a husband!’”

He said, “That I cannot do, because I have to live with her. It is easy to advise somebody else to scold his wife. Can you?”

Birbal said, “No, I cannot. I simply accept that I am a henpecked husband, and your wife is right.”

But Akbar said, “It has to be found…. In the capital there must be at least one husband who is not henpecked. There is no rule in the world which has no exception, and this is not a rule at all.”

So, he said to Birbal, “You take my two beautiful Arabian horses” – one was black, one was white – “and go around the capital. And if you can find a man who is NOT henpecked, you can give him the choice: whichever horse he wants is a present from me.” They were valuable. In those days horses were very valuable, and those were the most beautiful horses.

Birbal said, “It is useless, but if you say, I will go.”

He went, and everybody was found to be henpecked. It was very ordinary: He would just call the person and call his wife, and ask, “Are you henpecked or not?”

The man would look at the wife and say, “You should have asked when I was alone. This is not right. You will create unnecessary trouble. Just for a horse I am not going to destroy my life. You take your horses, I don’t want any.”

But one man was sitting in front of his house and two persons were massaging him. He was a wrestler, a champion wrestler, a very strong man.

Birbal thought, “Perhaps this man… he can kill anybody without any weapons. If he can hold your neck, you are finished!” Birbal said, “Can I ask you a question?”

The wrestler roared, “Question? What question?”

Birbal asked in a sheepish voice, “Are you henpecked?”

That man said, “First, let us greet each other, a handshake.” And he crushed Birbal’s hand and said, “Unless you start crying and tears start coming from your eyes, I will not leave your hand. Your hand is finished. You dared to ask me such a question?”

And Birbal was dying – the guy was almost a man of steel – and tears started coming, and he said, “Just leave me. You are not henpecked. I have just come to a wrong place. But where is your wife?”

He said, “Look, she is there, cooking my breakfast.” A very small woman was cooking his breakfast.

The woman was so small, and the man was so big that Birbal said, “There is a possibility that perhaps this man is not henpecked. He can kill this woman in a flick.”

So, he said, “Now there is no need to go further into investigation. You can choose either horse from these two, black and white, a reward from the king for the one who is not henpecked.”

And at that time that small woman said, “Don’t choose the black! Otherwise, I will make your life a hell!”

The man said, “No, no, I will choose the white. You just keep quiet please.”

Birbal said, “You don’t get either, neither white nor black. It is all finished, you lost the game. You are a henpecked husband.”

There is a continuous fight for domination. Love cannot blossom in such an atmosphere. The man is fighting in the world for all kinds of ambitions. The woman is fighting the man because she wants to be sure that this man remains controlled. So, in the house he is fighting with the wife, in the outside he is fighting with the world. Where do you think the flower of love can blossom?

Here, I’m reminded of yet another contrasting story…

One summer afternoon, the renowned mystic Kabir was weaving in the foreyard of his hut under the blazing sun when a villager came to meet him. Kabir welcomed him, offered him a seat nearby, and poured some water. They began to chat.

The villager asked, “Kabir, what does a happy married life look like? Is it even possible? Is there a secret to a happy marriage?”

Kabir turned toward his hut and called to his wife, “Hey listen, could you please bring a lit lamp out here?” He then resumed weaving.

His wife soon came out, placed the burning lamp beside the weaving machine, and quietly returned inside.

Kabir continued weaving, letting silence settle between them as the villager waited for an answer to his question. Finally, the man repeated, “Sir, perhaps you didn’t hear me as you were working. I was asking if a happily married life is possible and what it truly means.”

Kabir smiled and replied, “My friend, didn’t you already see the answer? When I asked my wife to bring a burning lamp, she didn’t even question why I needed one in the middle of this bright summer day. She simply brought it and left it beside me. This is the essence of a happy marriage—mutual respect, trust, and understanding. When one truly loves and respects their partner, they trust there’s a reason behind each request, and they don’t need to question it.”

A constant battle for control prevents love from growing. Love can only blossom when there’s no ego, no desire to dominate—when one isn’t trying to be somebody special but is willing to simply BE.

The flower of love can blossom only when there is no ego, when there is no effort to dominate, when one is humble, when one is trying not to be somebody but is ready to be nobody. Each step of love will bring its own awareness.

This love will not be FALLING in love; I call it RISING IN LOVE.

Osho, Beyond Enlightenment, Ch 1, Q 2 (excerpt)

न पूछो हुस्न की तारीफ़ हम से
मोहब्बत जिस से हो बस वो हसीं है ………………आदिल फ़ारूक़ी

na pūchho husn kī tārīf ham se
mohabbat jis se ho bas vo hasīñ hai ………………..ADIL FAROOQUI

Don’t ask me to describe beauty.
The one I love is beauty itself.

When you find true love, it’s a feeling beyond this world. Surrender yourself to the beauty of love with “Jag Ghoomeya”, the soulful song from Sultan (2016), sung by Rahat Fateh Ali Khan. Composed by Vishal-Shekhar and penned by Irshad Kamil, this song captures the essence of Kabir’s wisdom: true love is an unspoken understanding, where each sees the other as unique and irreplaceable—”जग घूमिया थारे जैसा न कोई — there’s no one else like you in this whole world.”

(272) Jag Ghoomeya Full Song | SULTAN | Salman Khan, Anushka Sharma | Rahat Fateh Ali Khan, Vishal-Shekhar – YouTube