Swapna Narayanan

 

 

O Mother of the Monster. Go, get up, confront your son!

 

Guess it is the time to wake up,

instead of being proud to have given birth to a male child.

It is the time to be ashamed of yourself,

for creating a monster that prowls on the road like an animal of the wild.

But, do not just be ashamed and sit quiet.

Or blame the circumstances – your husband, your family, your culture, your society.

 

O Mother of the Monster.  Go, get up, confront your son!

Tell your son that a woman is not –

a prey to pounce upon,

a soft toy to crush upon,

an electronic toy to rip apart,

an object to play around.

 

O Mother of the Monster.  Go, get up, confront your son!

Enlighten your son that a woman is –

within whom a man exists,

the core without which this universe cannot exist,

the Shakti without which everything ceases to exist,

the only empowered one to procreate.

 

O Mother of the Monster.  Go, get up, confront your son!

Remind your son that –

the law of Karma does not spare any soul,

as one sows, so shall one reap,

his future generations will probably pay for his deeds,

his daughters/grand-daughters will never forgive him.

 

O Mother of the Monster.  Go, get up, confront your son!

And, if ever, he turns a tad repentant, do let him know that –

passing the buck will not erase the blemish,

doing umpteen number of penances will not ease the punishment,

performing many a good deeds will not generate goodwill,

saying his prayers will not give him peace.

 

O Mother of the Monster.  Go, get up, confront your son!

 

(This poem has been published in an anthology ‘Muffled Moans’.)