A certain zamindar bought a fine Arab horse with a pedigree by paying a lot of money. His whole mind was so taken up with the horse that he could think of nothing else, night or day. He got a palace-like stable built for this horse. He was afraid that hired men would not tend the horse with the necessary care, and he undertook the horse’s grooming.
This was indeed a very great honor to the horse. The zamindar went to see his horse twice a day and groomed him with his own hands. All the same, the horse began to get thin gradually. Its shining coat lost its luster, and the bones started to push up through the skin.
At last, the zamindar said to the horse in great agony, “I bestow so much care on you. I even groom you myself. But you look emaciated and sickly as though there were none to care for you. What is the reason?”
“Sir,” replied the horse in a feeble voice. “What benefit is it to me that you care for me, put me up in a palace, and groom me yourself? You have entirely forgotten the most primary of my needs food. I’ve had no food since you bought me, and I am starving. Stop this grooming; give me food, and I shall look well again.”