My father had grown old and used to take the support of the wall while walking. As a result, the color of the walls started getting spoiled; wherever he touched, his fingerprints would be left on the walls. When my wife found out, she would often complain to me about the dirty-looking walls. One day, having a headache, my father massaged oil onto his head. While walking, oil stains formed on the walls. Seeing this, my wife screamed. In anger, I also scolded my father and spoke to him rudely, advising him not to touch the walls while walking. He looked very sad. I also felt ashamed of my behavior but said nothing to him. My father stopped holding the wall while walking. One day he fell down and became bedridden, which became his deathbed, and within a few days, he departed from us. I felt a deep sense of guilt in my heart; I could never forget his expressions and immediately after, could not forgive myself for his death. Some time later, we wanted to get our house painted. When the painters arrived, my son, who loved his grandfather dearly, did not allow the painters to clean his grandfather's fingerprints and paint over those areas. The painters were very good and innovative. They assured him that they would not remove my father's fingerprints/handprints, but rather draw a beautiful circle around those marks and create a unique design. After that, this continued, and those prints became a part of our house. Everyone who visited our home praised our unique design. With time, I too grew old. Now I needed the support of the wall to walk. One day, while walking, I remembered the words I had said to my father and his insistence on trying to walk without support. My son saw this and immediately came to me, telling me to take the support of the walls while walking, expressing fear that I might fall without support. I saw that my son was holding me. My granddaughter immediately came forward and affectionately placed my hand on her shoulder for support. I almost began to cry silently. If I had done the same for my father, he would have stayed healthy and happy for longer. My granddaughter took me along and made me sit on the sofa. Then she pulled out her drawing book to show me. Her teacher had praised her drawing and given her the best remarks. The sketch was of my father's handprint on the walls. Her remarks were: "Wish every child loves elders the same way." I returned to my room and began to cry, begging for forgiveness from my father, who was no longer there. We too grow old with time. Let us take care of our elders and teach our children the same. Also tell your family members that these elders are precious, not walls and things. (Adapted)