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The Story of The Aged Mother

1) A poor farmer lived with his aged mother in a small village governed by a despotic leader. The leader issued a cruel decree that all aged people must be killed. 2) The farmer loved his mother and did not want to abandon her, so at nightfall he carried her up a mountain to leave her there to die. As they climbed, his mother dropped twigs to mark the path for his return. 3) At the mountain top, the mother instructed the farmer to follow the twig path markers back down the mountain for his safe return, revealing she had placed them for his protection. Moved by her kindness, the farmer refused to leave her and carried her back

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60 views2 pages

The Story of The Aged Mother

1) A poor farmer lived with his aged mother in a small village governed by a despotic leader. The leader issued a cruel decree that all aged people must be killed. 2) The farmer loved his mother and did not want to abandon her, so at nightfall he carried her up a mountain to leave her there to die. As they climbed, his mother dropped twigs to mark the path for his return. 3) At the mountain top, the mother instructed the farmer to follow the twig path markers back down the mountain for his safe return, revealing she had placed them for his protection. Moved by her kindness, the farmer refused to leave her and carried her back

Uploaded by

Fe Tapnio Cunanan
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© © All Rights Reserved
We take content rights seriously. If you suspect this is your content, claim it here.
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Download as DOCX, PDF, TXT or read online on Scribd
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THE STORY OF THE AGED MOTHER

BY: MATSUO BASHO

Long, long ago there lived at the foot of the mountain a poor farmer and his aged, widowed mother. They
owned a bit of land which supplied them with food, and they were humble, peaceful, and happy.

Shining was governed by a despotic leader who though a warrior, had a great and cowardly shrinking
from anything suggestive of failing health and strength. This caused him to send out a cruel proclamation.
The entire province was given strict orders to immediately put to death all aged people. Those were
barbarous days, and the custom of abandoning old people to die was not uncommon. The poor farmer
loved his aged mother with tender reverence, and the order filled his heart with sorrow. But no one ever
thought twice about obeying the mandate of the governor, so with many deep and hopeless sighs, the
youth prepared for what at that time was considered the kindest mode of death.

Just at sundown, when his day’s work was ended, he took a quantity of unwhitened rice which was the
principal food for the poor, and he cooked, dried it, and tied it in a square cloth, which he swung in a
bundle around his neck along with a gourd filled with cool, sweet water. Then he lifted his helpless old
mother to his back and started on his painful journey up the mountain. The road was long and steep; the
narrow road was crossed and re-crossed by many paths made by the hunters and woodcutters. In some
place, they lost and confues, but he gave no heed. One path or another, it mattered not. On he went,
climbing blindly upward -- ever upward towards the high bare summit of what is known as Obatsuyama,
the mountain of the “abandoning of the aged.”

The eyes of the old mother were not so dim but that they noted the reckless hastening from one path to
another, and her loving heart grew anxious. Her son did not know the mountain’s many paths and his
return might be one of danger, so she stretched forth her hand and snapping the twigs from brushes as
they passed, she quietly dropped a handful every few steps of the way so that as they climbed, the narrow
path behind them was dotted at frequent intervals with tiny piles of twigs. At last the summit was reached.
Weary and heart sick, the youth gently released his burden and silently prepared a place of comfort as his
last duty to the loved one. Gathering fallen pine needles, he made a soft cushion and tenderly lifted his
old mother onto it. Hew rapped her padded coat more closely about the stooping shoulders and with
tearful eyes and an aching heart he said farewell.

The trembling mother’s voice was full of unselfish love as she gave her last injunction. “Let not thine eyes
be blinded, my son.” She said. “The mountain road is full of dangers. LOOK carefully and follow the path
which holds the piles of twigs. They will guide you to the familiar path farther down”. The son’s surprised
eyes looked back over the path, then at the poor old, shriveled hands all scratched and soiled by their
work of love. His heart broke within and bowing to the ground, he cried aloud: “oh, Honorable mother,
your kindness breaks my heart! I will not leave you. Together we will follow the path of twigs, and together
we will die!”

Once more he shouldered his burden (how light it seemed now) and hastened down the path, through the
shadows and the moonlight, to the little hut in the valley. Beneath the kitchen floor was a walled closet for
food, which was covered and hidden from view. There the son hid his mother, supplying her with
everything she needed, continually watching and fearing she would be discovered. Time passed, and he
was beginning to feel safe when again the governor sent forth heralds bearing an unreasonable order,
seemingly as a boast of his power. His demand was that his subjects should present him with a rope of
ashes.

The entire province trembled with dread. The order must be obeyed yet who in all Shining could make a
rope of ashes? One night, in great distress, the son whispered the news to his hidden mother. “Wait!” she
said. “I will think. I will think” On the second day she told him what to do. “Make rope of twisted straw,”
she said. “Then stretch it upon a row of flat stones and burn it on a windless night.” He called the people
together and did as she said and when the blaze died down, there upon the stones, with every twist and
fiber showing perfectly, lay a rope of ashes.

The governor was pleased at the wit of the youth and praised greatly, but he demanded to know where he
had obtained his wisdom. “Alas! Alas!” cried the farmer, “the truth must be told!” and with deep bows he
related his story. The governor listened and then meditated in silence. Finally he lifted his head. “Shining
needs more than strength of youth,” he said gravely. “Ah, that I should have forgotten the well-known
saying, “with the crown of snow, there cometh wisdom!” That very hour the cruel law was abolished, and
custom drifted into as far a past that only legends remain.

The Aged Mother was featured as The Short Story of the Day on Sat, May 11, 2019

ALOHA IYAH T. CUNANAN

8-ANISLAG

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