My Son, A Modern Son Poem by Bijay Kant Dubey

My son
A modern son
Made for ganja, bhang and daru,
A ganjaman, a bhangman, a daruman,
A drunkard out of senses
Loitering and falling,
Staggering and picking unnecessary brawls,
A bottleman living for bottles
Passing time in enjoyment,
Partying and revelling
Taking not a word, hearing it not,
Looking ouwardly a good boy,
But a bad boy from his within,
So rotten and dirty

A strange fellow,
A debauch and dullard,
With nothing in mind
He going after ads and the admen,
New things,
Fashion and designing,
Changing mobile phone sets frequently,
Breaking them for to get new
Under the petext of,
Giving the stunts with his bikes,
Speeding like Romeo
With the sticker of Chinese dragon
On his bike headlight cover
Smoking, drinking and quarrelling in intoxication,
Inebriation unmindful of his family matters,
Father, mother, sister

Coming house late into the night
Often drunk awfully
Unable to stand on his feet
Just hanging onto from the steering of his car,
A young man after the serials
He is a fan of Police File, Crime Diary,
Wanting to be a villain,
Repenting after the crime
A juvenile delinquent
So full of vice and moral degradation
Without any character or personality,
A great liar, he is everything
And what can he not do
With his fashion gurus in the heart
With a crow-cut hair, jewellery stud
On one ear lobe
Instructing from there?

On seeing him, exclaim I,
What a criminal is he, my God,
What a creation of mine or Yours,
Which but I do not know,
What a boy have I given birth to
Or a creation of my missus
Who has fashioned him
As per her wishes,
Hearing her own family's talks
Which is but an interference into someone's
Personal and private matters,
But God, as You are Saviour and Destroyer as well,
Save me, save me
From this bad boy
Putting a black spot
On the forehead of the clan!