A monkey heard a spiritual discourse one day. Greatly impressed, he decided to fast and chant Ram-Ram one whole night. He Fixed up an auspicious day and then waited for night to fall. He finished all his work, rolled up the bed, sat on it, and commenced Japa.
Suddenly a thought arose—"Suppose I were to wake tomorrow, after my fast, to go about from tree to tree in search of food. what would happen to me? I will grow weaker and weaker and finally die." He could not continue the Japa. He had to go out at once and bring sufficient food
for tomorrow. Placing it in a corner, he now commenced the Japa again, contentedly.
A little while later, again a thought arose — "Tomorrow, suppose out of weakness I am unable to walk, or even to crawl up to the corner and reach the food! It would be right in front of me, and yet I should perish and die!"
Tears came to his eyes at this dreadful thought. It was too much for him to bear. He got up, placed the food within easy reach of his hands and, happily, resumed the chanting and his Japa.
Once again a thought came—"Suppose I shall grow so weak to even stretch out my hand and carry the food to my mouth—what then? Oh, poor me!"
Horrified at the prospect, he decided to put the food right into his mouth and keep it there until morning, when it was time to break the fast.
He put the food into his mouth. Then he tried to carry on his Japa, but his mouth was full, and the food kept coming into the way of chanting.
Another thought arose—"Why keep the food in the mouth? Whether it is now or tomorrow, I have to eat it—why not eat it now and do the Jap a with ease?"
Obeying this common-sense judgment, the monkey ate the food, and went to sleep.