Clouds: A Teacher

by Ilhamul Azam 
read the suite from the beginning

A Teacher

Father doesn’t stay with us. He works in another city. He comes once a week. When he returns home, mother sleeps early or pretends to do so. Father then switches on the dim light so that mother doesn’t wake up. In that darkness, he tries to find his medicine box and comes to my room to do all the rustling. I thought I was the most unfortunate one, maybe this person has endured more than I could ever perceive.

When I was 7 years old, Mother and father had a big fight. Father tried to choke her, “ You diminished the happiness of my life.”

That day I thought I would fight for mother. Today, I feel not the same. Then I respected father, probably didn’t love him. Today, I feel not the same, even today I might not love him but isn’t sympathy a way of showing love? Or sympathy is greater than love?  

I fear father. Father has taught us several things while being silent. I wonder about the significance his teachings would’ve got if it hadn’t come from a person who spoke less. He was full of teachings without even intending to teach us, we learned about life in his simplicity and in the wickedness that was provided by mother. This education is great education.

Mother’s teachings have been complementary to that of father’s. It is important as well if not more. The bad aspects of life can never be turned down in front of the positive aspects since they are superior, they make the world work. The relationship between me and my mother seems to have no abnormalities. Is it because I am not sensitive toward this evil inconvenience or the simplicity of this divine bond is not gonna fall into the feet of worldly flaws?

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