The Piece of Fish and the Glass of Fake Wine

That evening at dinner, the flickering oil lamp cast the shadows of thin, frail children upon the damp, moldy earthen wall. The smell of wood smoke mingled with the fragrant aroma of pepper-braised fish, making all seven siblings swallow hard. In those difficult times, a meal with delicious fish was a rare occasion, more precious than gold.

The father sat at the head of the table, holding a small glass of wine, his eyes half-closed as he watched his children fighting over each bite of hot white rice. He never touched his chopsticks to the plate of fish. Instead, he kept sipping his wine, occasionally pretending to cough, raising a hand to his mouth as if he were drunk or tired. The children, hungry and absorbed in the joy of eating well, paid no attention to their father's strange behavior. All they knew was that today they could eat their fill, eating something they normally had to save up for a whole month to have.

When the last of the children finally put down their chopsticks, their bellies full, only the charred fish bones and a bit of salty sauce remained on the plate. Only then did the father hurriedly gather up those leftovers, bringing them to his mouth and chewing greedily, his lips moving but making no sound. The teacher, who was small at the time, suddenly froze. A chilling sensation ran down his spine, and his heart clenched. He realized: all this time, his father had not been drunk at all, nor had he lost his appetite. His father had pretended to drink wine, pretended to be busy, so he could give all the tender pieces of fish to his children. What remained, the dry, hard bones, was his own portion.

The teacher's tears flowed, streaming down his cheeks, stinging with bitterness. It was the first time in his life that he understood the greatness of parental love, so vast and so silent that careless children never even noticed. That sacrifice was not loud, demanded no recognition; it took place right there in the daily meager meal, where human selfishness was defeated by boundless selflessness.

The Meaning of the Story

This story illustrates a natural psychological law of human beings: we often love our own children more than we feel gratitude toward our parents. The Vu Lan festival is precisely the occasion for us to "turn upside down" that fickle instinct, to turn back and look at the quiet sacrifices of those who gave us life. Only those with virtue and wisdom can understand and cherish that unconditional love, and from there live with filial devotion and repay that profound debt of gratitude.

Compiled from a dharma talk by Venerable Thích Chân Quang