If I will Ever Have A Son (A Poetry)

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Mother and son
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If I’ll ever have a son,
I’ll teach him how to look… How to look at a girl of his class, how to talk to her…
I’ll teach him how to listen… How to listen to her when she lashes out on being hurt, how to protect her even though she’s no one to him..

But I’ll teach him the meaning of “Feminism”, its overuse and misuse.. Which can trap him from all around without any fault. He’ll defend and justify himself for sure, I believe. But I want him to teach, that girl, that lady, the true sentiment of “Feminism”.

Yes, I won’t trust him blindly. But I’ll tell him to search for his mom, whenever he finds himself, trapped in an unworthy shackle of compromises. “My little worrior”, I’ll tell him, “you’re taught and backed by two real fighters, who’ve defeated the fake world of lies…” So he doesn’t need to accept someone, who doesn’t value his sacrifices. He’ll always find a door, opening to the lap of his mom and arms of his dad, sitting on the same old chair, to hug him and make him sleep, no matter how far his under-valued sacrifices have taken him.

I’ll let him know, the struggle of his life will go on forever. But he, like his father, has been gifted with that extra-zeal, which he, unlike his father, needs to showcase, everytime his knees touch the ground of failure.

And over all these, I won’t stop him, if he starts trusting a woman other than his mom. I won’t stop him.. if he starts loving her more than his mom. I believe, he’ll glorify his mom and her teachings in the heart of his lady love. And I believe, a day will come when that pretty girl will cry more than my ‘young worrior’, when her husband’s mom will die..

I won’t stop him from smoking.  But I will tell him that “the smoke you inhale is far more killing to me than that you exhale”.. I will tell him that his mom’s eyes have turned watery and he would believe it to be due to the smoke.  So neither would he ever be able to inhale nor exhale the smoke. Now how would he learn to smoke? No, his father is naive here!!

And yes, I am going to make it clear to him that “your fighter mom and dad won’t come to fight for you”, when the fault is from his side.

The other meaning he will be taught is of “Trust”.. I will teach him not to trust so easily.. “but when a girl trusts you my son”, he is supposed to give it all back to her, with an icing of a layer of extra love and care, as she might have also been taught the same..

I will let him know how it feels when your trust is broken, how it burns you from inside.. So I won’t allow him to carry any lighter inside his pocket. But “my boy”.. I will tell him,”.. you are supposed to make that mutual trust, a ladder to success.” I will teach him to make it happen for his lady, make it happen for his old girlfriend, his mom.. “My young  Warrior, you are entrusted with expectations of the three most beautiful shackles of your life, you are the Rising Sun for them.. Your father, the old ‘you’.. your mom, your old-girlfriend who will always love you.. and your lady love, your to be wife.. are awaiting you at every step you take towards your goal.”

So if I will ever have a son I will dance with him, till I could stand on my feet.. and after that I will watch him dancing with his lady love, sitting and smiling, holding the hands of his father, right there, on the chair, which he will gift us at our silver jubilee..

And at last.. I will tell him a secret… “My boy”, I’ll let him know “When you ever go out of words, try to make rhymes.. And after three stanzas, you’ll find all those lost words on the paper, arranged beautifully… And the world will call it a “Poetry”.. but only you’ll know that it’s a game of hide and seek with the words you never spoke…”

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Love,
Mistella.

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