Pradip Chattopadhyay (28.01.1961 / Kolkata)
Being A Father
The son vents his suppressed anger on dad
The father should know he’s no more a lad,
He’s a man that needs his own space
To lead a life at his own pace.
Every time thus the son speaks out
Feels brave enough to open his mouth
The father feeling himself an intrusive mole
Shrinks in panic, seeks a hiding hole.
Every father at sometime absorbs such pangs
And buys peace with the youthful arrogance,
On his heart though weighs a load of stone,
He swallows all that he can’t tell his son.
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