Chapter 122அதிகாரம் 122 குடும்பம் Family

Inside the home, the unspoken law is the one that rules; the spoken law is only words.

The mother does not know how her fingers worked the dough she kneaded; yet the child kneads in that same way.

If a deep root takes hold in a pit whose bottom soil has turned bitter, the fruit is bitter with the water drawn up from below.

The lament a person never laments aloud is heard; the ear that hears it is the household’s.

All five share one lamp, one and the same light; if even one of them is in darkness, can that home be called a home?

The heart turns before the face does; in a house, the fire is there before the smoke rises.

A son roars, ‘I will not be like my father,’ and is bewildered to hear his father in his own voice.

The father watering the field knows that stoop; the son knows it too, watering in that same stoop.

Same work, same bend in the back: what passes down is the father’s labour and the very posture of it.

When one hand grows tired of carrying, the other hand takes up the load; both hands are one and the same body.

The many wicks of one lamp may each sway its own way, so long as one light drives off the dark.

A traditional Tamil oil lamp holds several wicks in one bowl, each flame flickering on its own.