During the World war II years food was being rationed and there was a general shortage of nearly everything. My mother and grandmother did their best to tide over those days, stretching the supplies as much as they could, cutting out any wastage, often reducing the portions on their plates so that the children had enough to eat. One day, my mother had made chapattis instead of rice. I sat at my place on the floor and ate with relish as she rolled out one fresh chapatti after another. They kept coming and I kept eating. I was a hungry little boy after all. When I had finally had my fill, I picked up my banana leaf plate and walked away to wash up. Later that night, my elder brother took me aside and scolded me for the first time. 'How could you be so blind Abdul?' he started. At first I had no idea why I was being pulled up. I started uncomprehendingly at him. Then he softened and explained, 'Did you not notice that there was just enough for all of us to eat two-three chapattis each? Amma will never say no to you, but because you kept eating, she kept serving you, and tonight she will go hungry, because now there is nothing left for to eat.'
That moment of shame of heartbreak of my beloved mother, who looked frail, yet was the toughest women I knew, broke my heart. I cried to myself, too mortified to show my face to anyone, and it was only after a few days that I could bring myself to look at her in the face again. What a lesson that was for me to never forgot the needs of those around me! Her love drove her to share her food with me without a second thought, and after my brother showed me the truth, I could never again eat without making sure there was enough to go around especially for my mother and grandmother.
Today's Question: Who is the narrator and what he wants to convey?
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