The Story of the Father and the Son

In a quiet, peaceful village surrounded by fields of golden wheat and tall swaying trees, there lived an elderly man with his only son and daughter-in-law. The old man had once been strong and capable, having worked hard in the fields to raise his son with love and dedication. But now, age had taken its toll. His back was bent, his hands trembled, his eyesight had faded, and his steps were slow and unsteady.

He had given his whole life to raising his son—carrying him in his arms when he cried, feeding him with his hands when he couldn’t eat on his own, and sacrificing his own comfort to give his child a better life. But now, in the twilight of his life, the roles had reversed. He needed help, but sadly, compassion was missing.

Every day, the family would gather at the dinner table. The old man, with his trembling hands, tried to feed himself. But he often spilled food on the table or dropped his spoon on the floor. Sometimes he would accidentally break the bowl or make a mess that was difficult to clean. His daughter-in-law would watch with disapproving eyes, sighing loudly every time something spilled.

“Why can’t he eat properly?” she would grumble.

One evening, the bowl slipped from the old man's hands and shattered on the floor. The daughter-in-law became furious. “That’s it! This is the third bowl this month! He can’t even hold a simple bowl!”

The son, though once a loving child, had grown impatient. The demands of his daily work and life had made his heart hardened. He sighed and said, “You’re right. We need to find a solution.”

The next day, he went to the local carpenter and ordered a special wooden bowl—rough, plain, and unbreakable. When he brought it home, he told his father, “From now on, you will eat in this wooden bowl.”

He placed a stool in the corner of the room, away from the dining table. From that day forward, the old man ate his meals alone, facing the wall, using the wooden bowl, without conversation, without warmth.

No one asked how he was. No one held his hand anymore. No one remembered the days he had once been the pillar of the house.

Days turned into weeks. The house was quiet, but there was an invisible sorrow in the air. One afternoon, the couple’s little son, about five years old, was playing near the shed. He had gathered some small pieces of wood and was trying to shape them with his tiny hands.

His father passed by and, with curiosity, asked, “What are you making, my son?”

The little boy looked up with innocent eyes and smiled. “I’m making a wooden bowl,” he said proudly.

“For what?” the father asked, confused.

“For you,” the boy replied sweetly. “So when you get old, I can feed you in it just like Grandpa.”

The father's face changed instantly. His heart sank. Those simple words from his child echoed in his mind like thunder. He stood frozen, staring at his son, the realization crashing over him like a wave. The very same treatment he gave his father was being copied by his own child. He felt ashamed—deeply ashamed.

Tears welled up in his eyes. Without a word, he turned and walked toward the small corner of the house where his father sat quietly, staring into space. The old man looked up slowly, confused.

The son fell to his knees beside him and gently took his frail hands. “Father,” he said, his voice breaking, “please forgive me. I forgot what you have done for me. I forgot the love you gave me when I was helpless and small. I forgot how you carried me, fed me, and protected me.”

The old man looked at his son, his own eyes filling with tears. The son continued, “From today, you will sit with us at the table. No more wooden bowls. No more eating alone. You are the head of this family, and you deserve to be treated with love and dignity.”

The daughter-in-law, standing nearby, had heard everything. Her heart softened. She, too, came forward and said, “Baba, I’m so sorry. We have been unfair. Please come back to the table.”

From that day forward, the old man was treated with the respect he deserved. He sat at the family table, shared meals, and smiled once again. The home, once filled with coldness and silence, was now warm with laughter and love.

The son never forgot the lesson his little child had unknowingly taught him. He made sure his father lived the rest of his days with peace, respect, and joy.