Bhajahari was the name of a rich landlord’s newly appointed domestic assistant. One day at noon the landlord told him, “Hey, Bhaja, go and prepare my bath.” After a while Bhajahari returned and declared, “Everything’s ready, sir.” The landlord went to the bathroom and was astonished to see that all Bhajahari had done was to put a few buckets of water on the floor.

“Bhaja, come here,” he shouted. “Listen to me carefully. You must be more methodical when you do something. You must plan ahead, do you understand?”

“Yes sir,” he replied.

“Tell me what you’ve understood,” said the landlord.

“When I do something I must plan ahead and be methodical,” replied Bhajahari.

“That’s right,” said the landlord. “Let me give you an example. Let’s take the case of preparing my bath. First you have to fetch some water. Then you have to decide where I’ll sit. I’ll probably sit on a wooden stool so you’ll have to fetch that too. Next you should think about my soap and oil and place it conveniently by the stool. After the bath I’ll dry myself, so I’ll need a towel. Then I’ll need freshly-pressed clothes, a mirror, comb, and so on. After bathing and dressing I’ll eat, so my wife should be ready with the food. Then I’ll wash my face, so a jug and towel should be kept nearby, and finally I’ll have a smoke, for which tobacco will be required. Do you understand?”

“Yes sir, it’s perfectly clear sir.”

That same day in the afternoon the landlord had a splitting headache. He called Bhajahari to his bedside and said, “Bhaja, I have a terrible headache. Bring me some tablets from the pharmacy.”

Bhajahari left the house on what should have been a quick errand, but he didn’t come back when expected. The day passed, the evening passed, darkness descended upon the world, and still there was no sign of Bhajahari. Finally, early next morning, when the landlord’s head was reeling under the heat of the early rays of the sun, Bhajahari made his appearance. He was accompanied by a crowd of people carrying bamboo sticks, machetes, ropes and wooden logs. Many of them had tied towels around their waists.

“Where have you been?” demanded the irate landlord. “All I asked you to do was bring a few tablets to cure my headache. Did you forget?”

“No sir,” replied Bhajahari, “I didn’t forget. I bought the tablets as you instructed. But then I remembered what you told me about planning ahead. I thought that if the tablets don’t cure my master what will happen? Perhaps my master will pass away. So first I bought some pots from the potter, then I consulted the almanac, then I went to the funeral shop and bought everything needed for a cremation. I bought some ghee, but I wasn’t sure if I had enough, so I bought some oil just to make sure. Then I purchased the wooden logs and had someone cut bamboo sticks from a bamboo grove. Finally I invited many people to join the funeral procession. They said the night was too cold and would only leave their houses in the morning after a hot cup of tea in bed. So here we are sir.”

“Your understanding of planning ahead is quite remarkable,” said the landlord. “But you left out an important event from this long sequence. If your master passes away he won’t be able to employ you any more, will he? Get out of my sight, you idiot. You’re fired!”