Thank your parents, even when they're difficult

Thirukkural with the Times explores real-world lessons from the classic Tamil text ‘Thirukkural’. Written by Tamil poet and philosopher Thiruvalluvar, the Kural consists of 1,330 short couplets of seven words each. This text is divided into three books with teachings on virtue, wealth, and love and is considered one of the great works ever on ethics and morality. The Kural has influenced scholars and leaders across social, political, and philosophical spheres.

Motivational speaker, author and diversity champion Bharathi Bhaskar explores the masterpiece.

I was in a meeting and my phone on silent, when an unknown number lit up the screen repeatedly. Seven missed calls.

Once the session ended, I called back. A voice—low and hurried- answered. “Amma, driver here. They aren’t taking sir to the hospital. He’s very sick. Please don’t tell them I called you.” The line went dead. It took me a moment to recognize the driver.

His ‘sir’ was no ordinary person. A distant relative, he had been a businessman of stature. I remember visiting his office with my father, for his new office inauguration and dinner. A large reception, suited staff, and an air of authority – a world I had not known then.

But time did what it always does. Slowly, things changed. The sons took charge—of the house and the business. His room was moved to the rear. After his wife passed, he stopped attending family gatherings. The narrative changed. Various versions of complaints surfaced from his children : he was difficult and interfering, gave too much to the daughters.

My husband and I decided to stop by the house, pretending to be in the area. The family received us with polite reluctance. When we asked to see uncle, they pointed to a door that led to a narrow store room. The room smelled of urine, medicines and something else. A man, once known for his dominance, had grown thin, his dignity lost in the cracks of the walls.

We stood still.

After a few minutes, we firmly requested that he be taken to the hospital. The family resisted but finally relented. As we prepared to leave, he whispered, with folded hands, “nandri”.

In the shifting dynamics between parents and adult children, something has begun to disappear - the old rhythm of care , presence and endurance. The list of grievances is long on either side. Ageing parents seem fixed in their ways, while children find the weight of criticism, dogmatism and unresolved hurts pulling them back amid demands of spouses and careers.

The tragedy lies in the realization that you cannot return to the path of yesteryears. The hands that once held yours become frail, unrecognisable.

In some cases, like that of uncle, estrangement turns into quiet cruelty—driven by inheritance feuds, ego and emotional fatigue.

That night, I thought of all our scriptures, parables, and proverbs. One message echo across cultures: Take care of your parents. “There is no temple holier than one’s mother; no scripture purer than the words of one’s father,” says an ancient Tamil saying. “Honor your father and mother, so that your days may be long,” commands the Bible.

Interestingly, there is little in these scriptures about caring for one’s children. Why? Because it is natural to do so while it is not with parents. That is why cultures encode it into law, religion, and literature.

I could not recall any couplet by Valluvar that advised children to take care of their parents. He did talk about making the parents proud, but not about taking care of them.

But he has written something which is ever larger and more profound, about being grateful.

Ennandri Kondrarkkum Uyvundaam Uyvillai

SeiNandri Kondra Magarkku

One may slay all that is good and still find redemption.
But there is no salvation for the one who kills gratitude.

No lesson. Just a line that stays with you. Because, when gratitude dies, so does humanity.

Luckily, gratitude has not died altogether. The driver had it.