The Parable of The Boy and The Jar
A father named Thinto, deeply concerned for his son Jipto’s well-being after a painful breakup, seeks the wisdom of a monk. “My son is lost in his sorrow, consumed by the end of his relationship. I fear he might do something drastic,” Thinto confides in desperation.
The monk nods with empathy, offering a solution that he carefully outlines for Thinto.
Back home, Thinto raps on Jipto’s door, calling out with an urgency born of newfound hope. “Son, a monk has blessed us with a ritual to win back your love.”
Jipto, previously unreachable in his grief, swings the door wide open. “What ritual? Let’s begin immediately, Father! I’m in agony without her.”
In the dining room, Thinto guides Jipto to a table where a clay jar with a slim neck awaits. “The monk instructed that you must pull out the stone within this jar without breaking it, and she will return to you. I’ll leave you to this task,” says Thinto, retreating with a hopeful heart.
From afar, Thinto listens as Jipto grapples with the jar, his frustrations mounting. “This jar is cursed! I can’t free the stone,” Jipto cries out, perplexed and angered by the seeming deceit. “What is this trickery, father?”
Though every paternal instinct urges Thinto to comfort his son, the monk’s sage advice echoes in his mind: “You must resist the urge to assist him.”
As hours pass, Jipto’s rage gives way to tears. Unable to bear his son’s anguish any longer, Thinto steps into the room. “My dear son, stop your struggle. My heart breaks seeing you like this.”
Jipto, weary and with his hand still stuck in the jar, looks at his father with a mix of defeat and despair. “Must I lose my hand along with my heart?”
A moment of clarity strikes Thinto, realizing the shared lesson between them. “Jipto, you must let go. You cannot pull out the stone if you won’t release your grip, just as I cannot shield you from life’s pains. Our clinging only prolongs our suffering.”
Understanding blooms in Jipto’s wet eyes as he slowly removes his hand, leaving the stone behind. Thinto places a comforting hand on his son’s shoulder, offering a gentle truth, “Pain is inevitable in life, my son… but to suffer is a choice we make.”
Let’s look out for each other
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