Beseeching To A Son.

I gazed at his likeness
in the gazette
that read, "wanted dead or alive."

I gazed at his likeness
in the gazette
and was flooded with nostalgia......

He was born on a fine day
as innocent as the dawning dew
as fit as fiddle.
All the kith and kins came to
bishopric him
and said,"What a fine boy he was."
They said,"He would make her head high"
But today,
I bend down my head
and behold his print.

Some said,"He would be famous"
And how right they were -
"isn't he famous today? "

Where did I go wrong my son?
I sent thou to read.
Taught morals.
Then why did thou trespass against?

Turn the pages of history, my son
which name the victors
who shed their blood
to free the motherland
from fear...
from burden....
from shackles of slumber
and pain.

Open your eyes, my son
thine motherland weeps
at thine deeds.

Look around and see
the gleeful little ones
whose future
seems starless
due to thine deeds.

I beseech to you son
with folded hands
turn back home
your mother awaits for you........




P.S: I wrote it when i was in 10th.