Learning From A Son

The alarm clock danced on the table near the bed,my head buried in the pillow, I took one hand out of the blanket and banged the clock without looking at it.The humming sound of birds that sat on the snow clad branches of the stunted trees lining our street could be heard easily. The ear-splitting sound of the clock made my ten year old son to wake up. I caressed his head gently so that he could sleep a bit more. I covered him with one more blanket so that he could feel the cold to a lesser degree.

I stepped out through the wrought iron gates of the house. The streets glistened with fresh snow and the sky was a blameless blue. Snow blanketed every roof top that showed snow had nudged its way into every crack. I picked up the newspaper lying unclad on the floor near the gate. I prepared the breakfast as my wife was away for some official work. After a while, I could see my son in flannel pajamas moving out of the room rubbing his eyes in half-asleep condition. His arms around me forced my lips to play a smile.

“I want to sleep more,” He said in an adorable voice.

I laid the groundwork to get him ready for the school. He put on his school dress and I tied up his shoe-laces.He sat on the big dining table covered with a checked table cloth, spoon and knife in front of every chair placed around it. Like deserts imploring for rain, his eyes waited for the breakfast. An electric heater was placed under the table to wipe off the cold around him. I poured the searing milk in the glass, bread popped out of the toaster in the dish plate. I served the breakfast swiftly that he ate with a calm and patient look.

“Dad! The breakfast is delightful,” He complemented.

I got preoccupied in the kitchen, washed the dishes while singing a beautiful song.There was a knock at the door, my son left the breakfast and cheered with exhilaration, his finger pointing towards the door.

“He must be the garbage man!”

He sprinted towards the door to open it. I saw a man with a long torn black woolen jacket and white snow over it. A woolen cap over his head ,beard long enough to touch his stomach, a mole on his left cheek and torn apart gloves from where shivering fingers were coming out. A child behind his back was peeping with an innocent look. He came out slowly and smiled at my son, moved his hand to shake it. I grabbed and pushed him aside.

“Wait! I am bringing the garbage here only,” I said in an arrogant voice.

The boy was shivering with excruciating cold, his shoes sole was about to part away. I brought the garbage and gave them.

“Can I get a blanket for my child?”  Man’s voice full of sorrow.

“No,” I shouted in vexation.

My son rushed into the room and brought the blanket that was kept folded on the bed. He gave it to the child and shook the hand with him.

“Why?” I said with an angry look.

“Like I, he will also be feeling cold” my son answered me.

I looked at him with bewildered face and was ashamed of myself very next moment. I shut the door and told my son to consume the left breakfast on the dining table. I dropped him to school and he waved me adieu, I kissed his forehead and thought of transforming like him.

“We should think like children because they just know the language of kindness, love and compassion. So, leave the ego and help those who are in need.”