Once upon a time, in the region of Nam Xuong, lived a woman whose husband had been sent with the army to a border post on the northern frontier. At that time, means of communication were difficult, so news came rarely from her husband or his command.
The woman resigned herself to her fate and stayed at home to do housework, tend the fields and look after their one-year-old son. She would cast her eyes upon the horizon every evening, yearning for the return of her cherished husband. Time went by.
Then winter came and one evening, a violent storm arose. The wind howled and moaned, and the house was shaken with every gust. Inside, the woman was sewing by the flickering light of an oil lamp. She stopped working from time to time to pat the back of her lovely child lying asleep in the bed.
Suddenly, a large gust of wind threw open the door. The lamp flickered out and a clap of thunder made the little boy awake from his sleep. Frightened, he began to scream. The mother clasped her child to her breast and lit the wick, which had been extinguished by the wind. Pointing her finger at her own shadow on the wall, she comforted her son: "Don't be afraid, darling. Daddy is there to take care of you."
The little boy looked at the quivering shadow and stopped crying immediately. The mother hummed a sweet lullaby and the child soon fell asleep again. The next evening, before going to bed, the little boy called for his father. A smile lighted up in the face of his mother. She placed herself so that her child might see her shadow on the wall. Then she taught him to clasp his hands before bowing to the shadow and saying: "Good night, Daddy."
The salutation eventually grew into habit and took place every evening. When the child was asleep, the mother stayed there at his bedside, alone with her shadow, late into the night.
Some time later, the man returned to his home and family. The woman was overcome with joy however, like most woman of that time, she did not reveal this to her husband. Only when tears had come to her eyes and run down her cheeks did she tell her husband: "We must thank our ancestors. I will go and get some food. Prepare the altar and look after the child. I will be back in a little while."
In the absence of his wife, the man made a quick acquaintance with the little boy. However, when he tried to persuade the child that he was his father, the little boy refused to accept his story.
"You are not my Daddy," said the little boy. "Daddy is not here now. I always say good night to my father before I go to bed."
Too shocked to say anything and too proud to question his wife, the man did nothing and kept silent.
Upon her return from the market, the woman felt a strong premonition that misfortune was coming to her home. It had come, indeed, and when she spoke to her husband, he turned away in silence. Her usual discreet words and reserved manner only inflamed the doubt in the heart of the man.
Silently, he prostrated himself before the ancestral altar and silently, he folded up the mat to prevent his wife from performing her rites. When the meal was served, the husband did not lay his hands on the chopsticks. The food cooled and, without speaking, the man walked out of the house and did not look back.
The woman spent many days in solitude with only her child, clinging to the slightest hope of her husband's return. One day, unable to suffer her sorrow and loneliness any longer, she gave her child a farewell embrace and entrusted him to a neighbour. Then, after running like a mad woman, she threw herself into the river and found everlasting peace in the spirit world.
The death of his wife came as a severe shock to the man, whose heart had grown cold with old age. Suspicion gave way to sorrow and the man eventually returned home to look after the child. In the evening he lit an oil lamp and was amazed to watch his son clasp his hands, bow to his shadow and say: "Good night Daddy."
At once he realised his disastrous blunder, but it was too late. An altar was set up on the bank of the river and a three-day mass of requiem was celebrated. As for the man, he neve
The woman resigned herself to her fate and stayed at home to do housework, tend the fields and look after their one-year-old son. She would cast her eyes upon the horizon every evening, yearning for the return of her cherished husband. Time went by.
Then winter came and one evening, a violent storm arose. The wind howled and moaned, and the house was shaken with every gust. Inside, the woman was sewing by the flickering light of an oil lamp. She stopped working from time to time to pat the back of her lovely child lying asleep in the bed.
Suddenly, a large gust of wind threw open the door. The lamp flickered out and a clap of thunder made the little boy awake from his sleep. Frightened, he began to scream. The mother clasped her child to her breast and lit the wick, which had been extinguished by the wind. Pointing her finger at her own shadow on the wall, she comforted her son: "Don't be afraid, darling. Daddy is there to take care of you."
The little boy looked at the quivering shadow and stopped crying immediately. The mother hummed a sweet lullaby and the child soon fell asleep again. The next evening, before going to bed, the little boy called for his father. A smile lighted up in the face of his mother. She placed herself so that her child might see her shadow on the wall. Then she taught him to clasp his hands before bowing to the shadow and saying: "Good night, Daddy."
The salutation eventually grew into habit and took place every evening. When the child was asleep, the mother stayed there at his bedside, alone with her shadow, late into the night.
Some time later, the man returned to his home and family. The woman was overcome with joy however, like most woman of that time, she did not reveal this to her husband. Only when tears had come to her eyes and run down her cheeks did she tell her husband: "We must thank our ancestors. I will go and get some food. Prepare the altar and look after the child. I will be back in a little while."
In the absence of his wife, the man made a quick acquaintance with the little boy. However, when he tried to persuade the child that he was his father, the little boy refused to accept his story.
"You are not my Daddy," said the little boy. "Daddy is not here now. I always say good night to my father before I go to bed."
Too shocked to say anything and too proud to question his wife, the man did nothing and kept silent.
Upon her return from the market, the woman felt a strong premonition that misfortune was coming to her home. It had come, indeed, and when she spoke to her husband, he turned away in silence. Her usual discreet words and reserved manner only inflamed the doubt in the heart of the man.
Silently, he prostrated himself before the ancestral altar and silently, he folded up the mat to prevent his wife from performing her rites. When the meal was served, the husband did not lay his hands on the chopsticks. The food cooled and, without speaking, the man walked out of the house and did not look back.
The woman spent many days in solitude with only her child, clinging to the slightest hope of her husband's return. One day, unable to suffer her sorrow and loneliness any longer, she gave her child a farewell embrace and entrusted him to a neighbour. Then, after running like a mad woman, she threw herself into the river and found everlasting peace in the spirit world.
The death of his wife came as a severe shock to the man, whose heart had grown cold with old age. Suspicion gave way to sorrow and the man eventually returned home to look after the child. In the evening he lit an oil lamp and was amazed to watch his son clasp his hands, bow to his shadow and say: "Good night Daddy."
At once he realised his disastrous blunder, but it was too late. An altar was set up on the bank of the river and a three-day mass of requiem was celebrated. As for the man, he neve
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